


And the World Keeps Spinning

by SilverShroud



Series: The Path Less Travelled By [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Grief/Mourning, Healer Draco Malfoy, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, POV Draco Malfoy, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Redemption, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 18:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20912513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShroud/pseuds/SilverShroud
Summary: Draco Malfoy accepted Dumbledore's offer of help at the top of the Astronomy Tower too late to prevent what he had started. Given shelter with his Mother's sister he finds himself facing up to the true nature of the cause he once pledged himself to.  As the war worsens he is forced to confront his worst fears and decide what kind of Wizard he wants to be.





	1. Chapter 1

Draco was hungry, exhausted and more afraid than he had ever been in his life. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it, the flash of green and the fall. It didn’t matter what he told himself, he had let them in and led them there. Even if he hadn’t cast the spell he had as good as murdered the old man who only moments before had given him a way out. Draco still didn’t know why he’d accepted, a mixture of cowardice and self-preservation he supposed.

And then there was Professor Snape, a man Draco respected and admired, who had seen him fail in his final test and then inexplicably had dragged him away to his Great Aunt's old London House and disappeared. 

It had been a lonely and fear-filled few days in this dark deserted place. He’d done a bit of exploring, found signs of habitation but absolutely no one aside from the miserable old house elf to talk to. He found himself fantasising about the feasts back at school and his warm bed in the Slytherin dormitories. All that was gone now and the sinking feeling of abandonment added to the ache of hunger.  
When he finally heard the creak of the front door opening Draco didn’t know whether to feel elated or terrified. 

He pulled out his wand, cast a disillusionment charm and slipped quietly into the hall.

The Wizard in the hall was standing quite still, looking as if he were concentrating hard. When he spoke, Draco started so badly he nearly knocked over the umbrella stand.

“Reveal yourself.”

Draco inched forward, desperate to get a better look at the intruder. The Dark Lord had many followers and for all he knew this Wizard could have been sent to murder him.

“I know you are here.” The Wizard continues in the same slow, measured tone. “If you do not make yourself known I will be forced to use more direct measures.”

Shacklebolt! The name came to him suddenly. An Auror and one who protected the Muggle Prime minister. What had his Father said? “No proper Wizard feeling.” That meant he was probably safe enough.

He took a deep breath and murmured the incantation to lift the charm. “I’m here, Sir.”

It was hard for Draco to decipher the look on Shacklebolt’s face when the other man saw him for the first time but he hoped that he hadn’t imagined the flash of relief.

“Draco Malfoy.” Shacklebolt nodded with satisfaction. “We had hoped to find you here.” His eyes lingered on Draco’s dusty robes and dishevelled appearance. “Gather your belongings. I will take you to a safe place.”

“I…” Draco trailed off, feeling even more self-conscious of his shabby appearance. “I already have everything.”

*

They apparated in the strangest place Draco had ever seen. Row upon row of squat little red houses, each identical to the next and every one of them with a different shiny metal machine on a square patch of ground. Cars, he thought, like Muggle brooms but bigger. He felt a strange jolt of excitement and rebellion. He’d never been to a Muggle dwelling before.

“Where are we?” The words came out sounding more scared than he would have liked, but that was all past now. He could only work with what he had.

“A safe place.” Shacklebolt repeated, glancing around before producing a piece of parchment from his pocket. “Read this and you will see it.”

_4 Privet Drive_

Draco looked up and then around feeling confused. Nothing appeared to have changed, no obviously magical dwelling had appeared from nowhere. He scrambled forward to keep up with Shacklebolt who was now striding purposefully up the short driveway of one of the box like houses.

A thin and angry looking woman opened the door, looking Draco up and down like he had crawled out from under a rock.

“Is this him?”

“Petunia,” Shacklebolt inclined his head courteously, “I assume you received the Order’s message.”

“I’m not a charity,” the woman snapped irritably, “I hope someone’s paying for his room and board.”

“Compensation can be arranged.” Shacklebolt seemed intent on pacifying the woman. “Now if you wouldn’t mind?”

They walked through a narrow hallway and into the lounge room. The whole house could have fitted in the ballroom of the manor. The general decorations reminded Draco greatly of Professor Umbridge’s office, for one wild moment he wondered if this was her family home. That was ridiculous though, this was a muggle dwelling through and through. He cleared his throat nervously and offered his hand.

“Draco Malfoy, Madame, thank you for your hospitality.”

The woman regarded his outstretched hand with an expression of horror and revulsion but managed to return a curt nod of greeting before turning back to Shacklebolt.

“Why isn’t the boy with him?” 

“Harry has remained at school. The death of Albus Dumbledore is a great tragedy. Hogwarts needs time to mourn.”

“So this one?” Her eyes flicked to Draco and back. “Why is he not back there _mourning_.” 

“That is something you should probably discuss with Mr Malfoy,” Shacklebolt said slowly. “Now I must leave, I have urgent business to attend to. We will be in touch regarding arrangements for both boys.”

“He’s not to have that…” Petunia burst out the first part of the sentence and then paused, she looked like she was trying to steal herself to say some disgusting curse word, “wand…in this house.”

Shacklebolt looked taken aback. “As we discussed, Petunia…”

“I won’t have it. If he’s to live under my roof with his…your differences. I won’t have it.”

Shacklebolt looked at Draco. “I won’t force you to do this, but…”

But if he didn’t then he couldn’t stay here and the Wizards who were working against the Dark Lord couldn’t protect him. Draco knew this even as his fingers closed around his wand as if it was a lifeline.

She snatched it out of his hand as if it would bite and then nodded, satisfied for the moment. She scrurried back out into the narrow hallway giving him one last look of dislike over her shoulder. “You stay there and keep off the furniture until I’ve found clothes for you. Those things you’re wearing are filthy.”

Shacklebolt gave Draco one last guarded look and followed her. “I will see you again soon Mr Malfoy.”

And with that Draco found himself alone in the lounge once again.  
*  
The next three days were, if it was possible, more miserable than his time at the Black family home.

Mr and Mrs Dursley, Harry Potter’s Aunt and Uncle, Draco soon learned, hated Wizards as much as Draco’s Father hated Muggles. They had locked his wand and his school robes away somewhere leaving him feeling exposed and helpless. He was dressed in some ridiculously oversized Muggle clothing that he couldn’t imagine could ever have belonged to Potter. If he wasn’t so afraid of being thrown out and subsequently murdered by the Dark Lord he would have seriously considered wrenching open each and every cupboard, grabbing his wand and cursing the pair of them. Worst was lack of news. He ached for word of his parents but there had been nothing, not one single solitary owl.

What would people think, he wondered to himself as he stood before a bowl of potatoes peeling them by hand, if they could see him now. Draco Malfoy, Pureblood, feared Death Eater, peeler of potatoes. Perhaps they’d think he deserved it.

Mrs Dursley looked over his shoulder and sniffed disapprovingly. “When you’ve done those the lounge needs hoovering.”

Hoovering? What in the name of Merlins Beard was a hooverer?

“And tea and biscuits for Vernon and I.” Mrs Dursley added, disappearing out of the kitchen once again.

Draco had never done work like this in his life. The first time he’d made the tea cold and Mr Dursley had shouted at him so loudly Draco had been reminded of the times he’d offended his Father. How was he supposed to know about plugs? There had been no food that night “because of your insolent behaviour” and Draco had waited until he heard the lock on his bedroom door click before he let his long-held tears fall.

He set the tea and biscuits down, trying his best to be as invisible as he could, which was easy given that unless they couldn’t avoid it, neither of them spoke to him. Back in the kitchen he crammed a couple of digestives into his mouth as quickly as he could to quiet his growling stomach and went back to the hard business of getting through the day.

*

If Draco could have planned his coming face to face with Potter in any way he would have put the way it actually happened right at the bottom of his ‘best ways for this to go’ list. He was unclogging a shower drain, a task that made him vow to be forever more polite to house elves everywhere, when his forehead made a sudden and very painful connection to the hard tiling.

“You!”

Rolling onto his back in an effort to defend himself only succeeded in earning Draco a matching blow to the back of his head as Potter’s fist connected hard with his jaw.

“You let them murder him!” Another blow followed and this time Draco could feel blood, hot and sticky flowing out of his nose. He braced for another which never came and then gingerly opened his eyes to find Potter standing over him looking every inch the avenging fucking hero that he played so well. 

“Fight back.” Potter demanded, eyes still blazing with anger. 

“For what, Potter,” he said bitterly, “much as I’m sure you’d love to break my jaw how exactly would it help anything.”

A long and very cold silence followed. Draco got to his feet and reached for a wad of toilet paper and held it to his streaming nose. 

“What else was I supposed to do.” He said eventually. “He would have murdered me if I hadn’t.”

“Can’t see any draw back there.” Potter muttered.

“Right now,” Draco snapped, “I’d agree with you.” He swallowed and took a steadying breath before he asked the question that had dominated his life over the past week and a half. “My parents…”

At that Potter’s expression softened a just slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I haven’t heard any news.”

Draco nodded, keeping his expression as blank as he could and bent to start cleaning up the mess of blood and shower gunk. It was easier to talk when he didn’t have to look at Potter and see pity in his rival’s eyes.

“He offered me safety you know, Dumbledore, said I could come over to the right side and he’d help us, my Family.”

“I know,” Potter said eventually, “I was there. And don’t ask why or how,” he added quickly, “because I’m not telling you. But I saw what you did.”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that so he remained silent. After another few awkward seconds he heard the sound of Potter heading downstairs.

*  
It was several hours later that they next faced each other. Draco entered the room he’d been sleeping in only to find Potter sat on the bed.

“I got rid of the lock.” Potter said by way of greeting, holding up a thin metal tool and giving Draco the closest thing to a genuine grin he’d ever seen before looking suddenly more serious. “Not all Muggles are like this.”

Draco shrugged and looked around the bare room awkwardly. “Where am I going to sleep?”

If he’d been in Potter’s place he would have milked this for every bit of humiliation he could draw out of his defeated rival. Potter was a better person than he was though, and proved it conclusively with his next answer.

“Not on the floor if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re in NEWT for Transfiguration, right? Surely you could make a bed out of these.” He prodded a couple of sorry looking cushions at the end of the bed.

“I can’t. I – I don’t have my wand.” He really didn’t want to have to admit that he’d meekly handed over his only true defence to a Muggle family, especially not to Potter but there wasn’t any other way to explain it. “Your Aunt and Uncle took it.”

Potter didn’t look surprised. If anything he looked sympathetic and, as much as Draco was desperate for any kindness at the moment, he couldn’t let it come from Potter without challenge.

“Go on,” Draco muttered defensively, “laugh.”

“I’m not going to laugh at you, Malfoy.” Potter said eventually. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Sorry for me?” Draco let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Why? I did this to myself.”

Potter nodded in acknowledgment as if there was nothing else to say about that and got up. “Come on. We can get some of the sofa cushions from downstairs and I know where they keep the winter duvets.”

The end result wasn’t the most comfortable bed that Draco had ever slept on but after the last few days it might as well have been a king four poster with a feather mattress. He kept the oversize Muggle clothing on, still wary of ridicule from Potter. He pulled the duvet up to his chin and rolled over to face away from Potter. For the first time since the Astronomy tower a small hope started to bloom inside him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Draco was started awake by a shriek of horror. His hand went straight for the spot where his wand rested on his bedside table and hit only bare carpet. Potter had done the same thing except he actually had a wand to wield.

“You ungrateful brats,” Mrs Dursley was stomping up the stairs and Draco’s stomach did a nervous flip as he heard Mr Dursley begin to stir.

She burst into the bedroom like an angry she-bear. “I give you a roof over your heard and food to eat and you repay me like this?”

It took Draco several sleep deprived seconds to realise that the cause of this outburst were the sofa cushions he had spent the night on.

“Well what was he supposed to do?” Potter snapped, “sleep in dear Duddy’s ickle bed?” 

Mrs Dursley’s lips pressed so tightly together that she looked like someone had cast the Sour Suck Hex on her. Draco tried to imagine what would happen to him if he’d dared to speak to Aunt Bellatrix like that, or any adult in his home come to think of it. Whatever it was would have been unpleasant and quite likely painful. 

Whoever ‘Duddy’ was Mrs Dursley seemed to conclude that the idea of Draco or her nephew daring to sleep in his bed was too horrible for words. She gave a great sniff of derision and slammed the door. There was a low angry buzz of conversation audible through the wall separating them from Mr and Mrs Dursley’s bedroom.

“Are you seventeen?” Potter said into the awkward silence that followed.

Draco nodded. “Had my birthday last month.” 

It hadn’t been much of a birthday for the heir of a great family coming of age. He’d spent it crammed upside down in the vanishing cabinet that had proved the undoing of everything. His Mother, of course, had sent an Owl laden with as much as it could carry. His Father had given him a Goblin made watch of beautifully wrought silver. He’d lost the watch in the chaos of that final battle on the stairs.

“If I let you borrow my wand,” Potter said slowly, the faintest ghost of a smile on his face, “do you swear not to turn them both into the pigs they are?”

Draco laughed for what felt like the first time in years. “Potter, you really are sounding exactly like my dear old Father. And there I thought you were a really Mudblood lover.”

He knew it was wrong the moment the words left his mouth. It had been so easy, so normal for him to talk like that. He hadn’t even thought for a second. Potter’s expression went stony.

“I didn’t mean…” Draco began and then when Potter still continued looking at him with an impressive similarity to the look the Dursleys had given him, took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I don’t want to be that anymore. And I’m sorry I said it.”

Potter scowled and threw back the duvet on the bed. “Come and make yourself useful at least.”

Draco lingered as long as he could in the bedroom, wary not only of Potter but his relatives as well. It was all very well believing yourself better than other people, especially when everyone else around you helped reinforce it; but being on the receiving end of someone’s hate and disgust for something you couldn’t help felt very unpleasant indeed.

By the time he went downstairs Potter had the cooked breakfast well underway. Draco clenched his jaw hard to avoid salivating. He still had some pride. He did the dishes uncomplainingly even as his stomach rumbled. He could feel the eyes of Mr Dursley burning into his back until the sound of a chair being scraped back finally signalled the end of the ordeal.

“We’re going out.” Mr Dursley liked to address his conversation to the empty air when it concerned Draco and it seemed the same applied to Potter. “Don’t you dare -”

“…breathe, exist, occupy space or otherwise show any sign of life.” Potter interrupted sarcastically. “Don’t worry, the house will still be here when you get back.”

With one last deeply unpleasant glare in the two boys direction the Muggles left and the roar of some great machine suggested they’d ridden off in the car.

“Potter,” Draco said slowly, “how exactly have you stayed alive these last sixteen years with relatives like yours?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Potter shot back grumpily.

Draco could see the same instant regret on Potter’s face that had so recently been on his own. Draco turned away so Potter wouldn’t see the sudden tears that welled up in his eyes at the thought of his parents. Stupid. Weak. He needed to get a grip on himself. 

“Malfoy?” Potter’s hand was on his shoulder. It was the first time in months that anyone had touched him in any way other than an impersonal brush. Potter squeezed once, reassuring and then it was done. 

“Can we just agree, Potter,” Draco paused trying to choose his words carefully. “That we have a long way to go before we can be called friends but that we won’t deliberately be cruel to one-another. Especially whilst we’re stuck in this…place.”

Potter looked like he was having a very vicious internal struggle. After several seconds he nodded and held out his hand to Draco who shook it with a cautious smile. “So,” he looked around, “how do Muggles have fun?”

*  
The game Potter picked, Battle something, was such a typically Gryffindor game, Draco thought to himself as he gaped in astonishment at the little figures dancing across the screen. You threw yourself around a battlefield, rescuing people and putting yourself in harms way for no other reason than it was your duty. Potter was good at this, you needed quick reflexes and good hand eye coordination to work the little – box thing – that made the man move.

“Try it.”

Potter thrust the box into Draco’s hands and sat back to watch the fun.

“Wretched thing,” Draco swore under his breath and his fingers struggled with the buttons and levers. “Dratted thing keeps – what the hell is it doing?” 

Rather than running headlong into battle as he had when Potter was in control, the man was now doing an awkward crouch like hobble and shouldering and unshouldering the rifle he wore. Draco couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it looked and at the strangeness of him even being in this situation. Potter was laughing too and for the briefest of moments Draco felt completely at ease for the first time in half a year.  
Draco handed the box back and let Potter get back to his typical showing off. “How does it work?” He asked, gesturing to the picture machine – television – that displayed their game.

“No idea,” Potter shrugged and pulled off a particularly demanding series of moves that made the machine trill pleasantly.

“But don’t you want to know?” The whole thing intrigued Draco. He knew how magic worked, well at least the basics of it according to the Magical Theoreticians, but all this was -much as he would never have admitted it before, fascinating. 

“I don’t really mind as long as it’s fun. Hermione’s the one for that.”

“Because she’s a Muggle?”

“Muggleborn.” Potter corrected, with a little more patience now they’d reached their agreement.

“Muggleborn.” Draco repeated. The word still feeling a little unusual in his mouth. “Do they know this stuff the way we know our ways?”

“No Muggles don’t all know, some of them do, they invent things that work to do things other Muggles want in the same way that Wizards invent spells for other Wizards.”

“Oh.” Draco said, more for something to say while he thought about this than anything else. He’d never really even thought about Muggles. They were just there, some big useless clump of non-magical people who weren’t any good for anything other than breeding and getting in the way of Wizards. It had never occurred to him that they might have their own ingenious inventors and devices and culture. He wondered what his Father would say if he could see his son and heir right now and a cold shiver ran through him.

“Shall we get some food?” He suggested, “before your Aunt and Uncle come back to terrorise us?”

“That’s the second good idea you’ve had, Malfoy.” Potter gave him the same half smile that Draco had thrown his way.

The picture box went abruptly dark and quiet and Draco followed Potter back into the kitchen intent on eating as much as he possibly could whilst he had the chance.

*  
The Dursley arrived back home with a boy who could easily have given Crabbe and Goyle a run for their money. He looked past Potter with a studied indifference and gave Draco only the most brief nod of acknowledgment. The house felt full to bursting now that this other boy, Dudley, Draco learned his name from hearing Mrs Dursley simper over him, had come back to stay. It was noisy crowded and far too full of Muggles and so Draco was rather glad of the excuse to disappear when Mr Dursley grunted at him and thrust a box at him which turned out to contain a camp bed.

An hour or so later Potter came upstairs with a sandwich and a cup of tea for him.

“Thought you’d be hungry.” He nodded in approval as he saw the assembled camp bed and flopped down on his own. “So, Dudley.”

“Hmm, thank you.” Draco mumbled, sitting down a cautiously on his new bed and taking the offered refreshments. “Could use a good disgorgement charm if you ask me.”

Potter shrugged. “He used to be worse. Then he took up boxing and spent the summer trying to practice on me.”

“Well if I was called Dudley Dursley I’d probably feel like hexing a few people too. Did your Aunt have some kind of episode when she named your cousin?”

Potter smirked at that. “Well you’ve seen what they’re like. They probably thought it was a wonderful name.”

Draco really wasn’t sure how to ask the next question but he’d thought about it over and over during the last two weeks. Why did he put up with them? Surely the Weasleys could fit another body in that ramshackle barn of theirs. Draco knew all about having family one would rather do without but they were family nonetheless and he’d never treat them the way that the Dursley’s had treated Potter. 

“Potter, why exactly are you here?”

The question sailed over Potter’s head like a missed jinx. “Like I said, thought you’d be hungry.”

The sandwich was quite good. Chicken and stuffing in some sort of thin white bread that no house elf would ever dare produce. Potter didn’t make any kind of move to leave so Draco went back to arranging his blankets and pillow. When he couldn’t find anything else to do he sat back down again and peered around the small, sparse room. Potter’s owl hooted at him hopefully and pecked at the bars of her cage looking for a treat. He was just about to work up the courage to ask Potter if he could borrow his Quidditch history book when the bedroom door was once again flung unceremoniously open.

“Mum and Dad can’t remember your name.” Dudley addressed Draco with none of the respect nor fear that he had become so used to getting from the Wizarding world. It was a curiously refreshing sensation. “So, I came to say hello.”

“Draco Malfoy.” He held out his hand and Dudley shook it. 

“You’re one of Harry’s friends?”

Potter, seated just out of Dudley Dursley’s eye line gave Draco such an eye roll upon hearing that suggestion that it was all he could do to keep a straight face. “We’ve known each other for a long time.” He replied smoothly.

“Well…” Dudley stuck his hands in his pockets looking suddenly awkward. “Good to see you, Harry. School going okay?”

“Not really.” Potter said bluntly, letting the lack of any further detail trail off awkwardly into the silence until Dudley shrugged and left, shutting the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

He had been lying awake, thinking about home, when it began. He knew it would happen sooner or later so he was rather glad to have it happen now when everyone was asleep. His left forearm felt like it was on fire and he knew that if he rolled up his sleeve the Mark would be a depthless black against his pale skin. He could no longer place his wand to it and twist into nothingness only to feel the heat dissipate as he knelt at the Dark Lord’s feet. It would burn now until the session was completed and the Death Eaters dismissed. 

It was harder than Aunt Bellatrix had made it seem to cut yourself off from your own body and wall yourself away from the parts of you that you didn’t want. Still, practice, and Draco had had a lot of practice, made it easier. He matched his breathing to the slow rhythm of Potter’s snores and lay still waiting for it to pass.

A sudden moan of fear and horror made his spine prickle and he sat up straight and alert. “Potter?”

“No…no don’t…let her go. Please…”

Potter wasn’t talking to him, instead he seemed far away in a nightmare. Draco tried again, reluctant to wake the other boy and risk being attacked for his trouble. Draco found the button for the Muggle Lumos charm and the light was instantaneous. “Potter…wake up.”

“Stop. No…no…argh!” And with that last cry Potter did wake up, clawing at the spot over his scar, eyes wild. 

“Just a nightmare, Potter.” Draco did his best to sound reassuring even as the mark burned. “Go back to sleep.”

Potter shook his head distractedly. “I have to write a letter.”

“Now? Who to?” Draco’s stomach dropped as he connected a series of very unpleasant dots.

Potter was already at his dresser scribbling a note on a scrap of parchment. “Not now, Malfoy…just – just get some sleep.”

“I’m not stupid, Potter.” Draco held up his left arm letting the loose sleeve drop to reveal the Mark. “I can feel it too.”

“Well there’s nothing you can do about it either. So just shut up and let me write.” He dashed off a few more lines before letting his owl out of its cage and tying the message firmly before sitting back down on his bed and rubbing his hand over the scar again. “It hurts when Voldemort is angry. Is it the same with your mark?”

Draco shuddered at the sound of the name. “Don’t…”

Potter rolled his eyes. “It’s a name. We shouldn’t be afraid of a word.”

Sometimes Draco marvelled at how Potter had ever survived a Dark Wizard trying to kill him since he was born. “Don’t be such a Gryffindor, Potter. It’s not just a word. The Dark Lord…he knows when you speak it. He finds people that way.”

“What?” Potter’s expression and tone both suggested he wanted to laugh but was afraid to learn a very unpleasant truth.

“We, well his subjects, are forbidden to speak his name. There’s a curse on it that leaves some sort of trace and if you speak it he knows and he can find you. My Father,” Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat, “he talked about it sometimes. And to answer your question yes, the Mark hurts. I suppose it’ll hurt every time they meet without me now.”

Draco expected some smart remark back about how he’d have been better to avoid getting the mark in the first place but it never came. 

“Did you want to do it? Be a Death Eater I mean?”

Draco knew his attempt at a light hearted chuckle had come out sounding hollow. “Yes, I wanted to very much. Of course, I’d probably have been forced into it if I hadn’t gone willingly but I was too full of my own self-importance back then to notice or care.”

“Forced into it?” Potter looked very serious. “Because of your Father?”

Draco nodded, feeling a strange mix of pain and relief at the thought he’d probably never see his Father as a free man again. “The Dark Lord was – unhappy – with the failures of the Malfoys. He came to me and said that if I pledged myself to him, fulfilled a task he would personally set me, then our Family honour would be restored. But you know how that all ended up.”

“What do you think you’ll do now?”

“When we leave here? I want to find my Father and Mother and try to bring them out too. After that I don’t know. Try to leave the country I suppose.”

The almost certain death sentence for what Draco had done in defying the Dark Lord hung in the silence between the two of them, he and Potter, as they sat there in the grey light of dawn. Draco sighed, his arm had finally stopped burning.

“What about you?” Draco looked Potter full in the face. “He will be coming for you.”

“I’ve got my own plans for him.”

Draco snorted. “You, Potter, what have you got that the Dark Lord can possibly be afraid of.”

Potter gave him a look that suggested there was lots he could say in answer to that question. Draco was again surprised to find himself desperately hoping that Harry Potter could really do what Draco’s Father had spent so many hours venomously denying he’d ever be able to; defeat the Dark Lord. It was, after all, Draco’s only hope of living a long and somewhat happy life.

*

Several hours later Potter’s owl returned. Draco knew that Potter was downstairs watching the Muggle picture television and couldn’t help trying to take the letter off the bird’s leg. He swore as he earned himself a vicious pecking for his trouble and decided it was better to go and let Potter retrieve the letter himself.

“Potter, your owl…” Draco froze midsentence. The picture on the screen was of his Father.

Potter had turned around when Draco had entered the room, his expression first surprised and then puzzled. He turned back to the screen and then to Draco, making a grab for the wand that controlled the screen. The Muggle speaking became suddenly louder.

“…had escaped from Rampton Secure Hospital several months ago. A police spokesman today confirmed that Malfoy had been living rough before the attack in Nottingham today. Three men with moderate injuries and one woman in a life threatening condition were taken to Nottingham’s Queen’s Medical Centre where their condition is now reported as stable. Malfoy was confirmed dead at the scene. For anyone affected by these events…”

“Wait a minute,” Mr Dursely was rumbling into life. “Malfoy,” he pointed a great sausage like finger at Draco. “You’re a Malfoy…you know that lunatic?”

Draco’s hands moved reflexively to straighten robes that he wasn’t even wearing. “Excuse me,” he said politely, turning in a haze of shock to head back upstairs. Behind him he could hear Mr Dursley shouting at him to come back down and when that went unheeded shouting at Potter to explain this.

Draco lay down on his bed and stared at the whorls of paint on the ceiling.

His Father was dead. 

It didn’t seem real. 

But it was. He’d seen it.

Dead.

Gone.

Surely he should feel something right now. But there was nothing, just a terrible, suffocating blankness. His Father, the lynchpin of his world, on which everything he was and everything he’d ever wanted to be had rested, had been snuffed out of existence.

The sound of stomping feet and angry voices sounded on the stairs. 

“Uncle Vernon, don’t – you don’t understand…”

“I understand enough to know that boy is associated with criminals and murderers. He leaves now.” And then more irritated. “Get out of my way, this is my house. OUT OF THE WAY.”

Potter the hero, defender of lost causes. Draco could see flecks of plaster where the paint had worn away.

Mr Dursley filled the doorway with beefy outrage and snarled down at Draco. “Out.”

And to think just yesterday he’d been stupid enough to let himself be happy.

“Don’t you ignore me you…foul little brat…you - ”

Draco didn’t remember what happened next. Potter told him later on that it looked like an explosion but only in one direction. Mr Dursley was flung back against the wall over the stairs, bannisters splintering as he smashed through them, propelled by some unseen force. Draco hadn’t meant to do it. He shouldn’t have been able to do it at all without his wand. All the same it was done.

Mrs Dursley’s scream of horror at finding her Husband semi-conscious at the bottom of the stairs with his leg badly broken pierced Draco’s howling fog of despair long enough to see Potter standing in the doorway to the bedroom, blocking anyone else from entering.

“Dudley, call an Ambulance, your Father’s badly hurt.”

Hurt. Draco thought dispassionately. At least he still had a Father.

There was a silvery white glow, and a familiar voice, Shacklebolt. “Remain calm, we are arranging help.”

Potter shut the door after that and Draco was blessedly alone once more.

*  
“There’s a lad.” A friendly face framed with curly brown hair filled Draco’s field of vision and a hand was on his shoulder encouraging him to sit up. The man wore green robes with the crossed wands of St Mungo’s. “Nasty business, very nasty business. Take this,” the wizard’s other hand offered a goblet of potion. 

It could have been poison for all Draco cared at this point. He took a sip and felt some of the numbness lift from his thoughts. He looked around at the new visitors to the room; Shacklebolt, two other healers to add to the one kneeling beside him, Potter and a witch with violently pink hair. He drank the rest of the goblet and set it down.

“Strong calming draught,” the Wizard spoke deliberately but with a steadiness that Draco found reassuring. “You’ve had an awful shock, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco cleared his throat. “So, it’s true then.”

“As far as we have been able to confirm,” Shacklebolt nodded. “It is deeply concerning that He Who Must Not be Named would act so openly.”

“My Mother?” Draco felt his heart quicken, his body nervous even if his mind felt clearer.

“I’ve sighted her within the last day. Had eyes on all suspected families since Hogwarts.” The pink haired witch spoke now. “All the reports in the Prophet are that Lucius Malfoy has been missing since Albus was killed. You must know this is intended to draw you out so that He can kill you as well.”

Draco nodded. “But I’m not sure how I can stay here now. Especially after…well I blew that Muggle out the door.”

We’ve taken care of the Muggles,” the two other Mediwizards spoke up now. “No harm done there and they don’t remember any of it.”

“I’m leaving you a supply of the draught, and some ingredients to make a simpler and less potent version.” The curly brown-haired Wizard added. “Don’t over-use it. You need to feel the grief, painful though that is, otherwise you will never reconcile yourself with the loss. Though I would also recommend Cheering charms as a useful support.”

“Speaking of charms.” Potter held out something in his hand and Draco’s fingers closed on the polished warm wooden surface of his own wand.

“Thank you.” Draco stood and offered his hand to each of the Wizards in turn. “Thank you for doing this for me. I will repay you somehow.”

“Stay alive, Mr Malfoy,” Shacklebolt spoke with the same calm deliberateness, “and if you can do that then fight Him. We need everyone we can to stop him doing to other families what he has done to yours.”

“We must be leaving, Kingsley,” the Healer interrupted, “our absence will soon be noticed and I’d rather not face questions I can’t answer.”

“Of course, Tonks if you could ensure a quiet journey back to St Mungos?”

Quietly, the others left until only Shacklebolt, Potter and Draco were left in the small bedroom.

“I’ll stay until tomorrow,” said Shacklebolt, “to keep watch. After that I must go back to my work but we are here Harry and we will get you out to safety. There’s a place for Mr Malfoy too, if he wishes to accept it.”

There was no question in Draco’s mind any more. Of course he would accept it. The Dark Lord wanted him frightened and obedient, and he had been frightened. He’d been obedient too, so had his Father and where had that got either of them but dead or in hiding. He didn’t want this kind of world for the family he hoped one day to have. Most of all he didn’t want his Father’s murderer to cause any more death or suffering.


	4. Chapter 4

“My Aunt is going to murder you.”

Potter was sat at the Dursley’s kitchen table, feet up on a stool and watching as Draco used one of Mrs Dursley’s prized copper bottom saucepans to brew the next batch of calming solution.

“Ask her to please join the queue.” Draco shot back, trying to concentrate on the instructions laid out in his copy of Advanced Potion Making. “Damned if this thing isn’t the trickiest brew I’ve ever made.”

Five minutes of stirring later and he added the last petals of hellebore. The potion emitted a puff of black smoke and turned blue. He nodded in satisfaction and set about bottling individual doses for the next seven days. He hoped not to need them all. He knew how easily he could grow to rely on these mind-altering brews. Still, it felt good to know he hadn’t lost his skill with Potions.

Potter glanced down at his watch. “Have you got everything packed? They’ll be around in a minute for the escort.”

“If by everything you mean am I dressed and do I have my wand then yes.” Draco gave Potter a sardonic smile. “Not all of us get to pack before we flee for our lives, Potter.”

Potter smiled back. “Every time I think I’m starting to like you, Malfoy, you go and remind me of what an absolute idiot you can be.”

They fell quiet again, Draco glancing up at the kitchen clock which was moving inexorably towards the agreed time for his leaving. This might well be the last time they ever saw one another. Draco knew that he himself was in danger but that was nothing to what Potter faced. 

“Then all I will say is that I sincerely hope that I get the chance to irritate you again in future.”

In the living room the annoyed voices of the Dursleys could be heard over the rather exasperated tones of Tonks. Draco sighed and glanced back. “I’d better be going then.” He held out his hand and they shook. 

“Good luck, Potter.”

*

Tonks was an Auror and, Draco had recently learned, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. They had made arrangements to take Draco to a safe house with her family and that he was going to have to be Vernon Dursley for at least an hour whilst they effected their escape. Draco had also managed to work out that Tonks would be playing the part of Petunia Dursley although for security reasons he didn’t know any more than that. 

The Polyjuice potion tasted like some horrible mix of overboiled sprouts and petrol. It was all Draco could do not to spit it out. The transformation into the large beefy form of Vernon Dursley was no more pleasant and Draco avoided looking in the mirror as he pulled on Mr Dursley’s oldest and scruffiest clothes. It felt very strange to not be in his own body and he felt clumsy and oversized as he made his way carefully downstairs, slipping his wand into the pocket of the jacket.

The newly polyjuiced Mrs Dursley gave him a much friendlier smile than the real woman had ever managed. “Shall we be going then?”

And with that they stepped out into the Muggle World. 

Cars were much, much louder close up than he had expected and he had to fight the urge to flinch as they wandered down the pavement within inches of the roaring things. Everything smelled smoky and it was so loud, all those lights and strange smells. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as they headed into a rather dull looking park with a few straggly hydrangeas and a rusting swing set. The muggle clothing was starting to feel both baggy and too short. They made their way into the midst of the bushes to hide from any unwanted prying eyes

Tonks glanced at the Muggle style watch and nodded. “We can apparate from here once the potion’s effects have worn off completely. I’m certain no one followed us. It’ll have to be side-along.” She added apologetically, “since you don’t know where you’re going.”

“Well I’m hardly going to refuse am I?” 

Tonks rolled her eyes and offered her hand. Draco took it and then felt the familiar squeezing sensation of apparition. When he had got his breath and balance back enough to look around he found himself in a neat little cottage garden surrounding a house with an untidy looking thatched roof. Their arrival had attracted the attention of several pigs who had poked their snouts through the bars and sniffed the air.  
A tall witch emerged from the front door of the house and for just one moment Draco had a horrible surge of anxiety. That was until she spoke and her voice was completely unlike that of his Aunt Bellatrix whom she resembled so much.

“Hello Draco,” her smile reached her eyes as she drew him towards her and into a close embrace. “I’m your Aunt Andromeda, I have so longed to meet you.”

Draco stared at her. He knew his Mother had been born one of the three famous Black sisters but he’d only ever heard about Aunt Bellatrix. He had long assumed that his lost Aunt had died in the last Wizarding war along with so many of his other relatives and that his Mother had never talked about it because it had been too painful.

“You’re Andromeda Black? My mother’s sister?” It was obvious that she couldn’t be lying, the resemblance to Aunt Bellatrix was obvious and then when he looked closer he could see traces of his own Mother in the line of her jaw and in the colour of her eyes.

She smiled again, more sadly this time. “I’ve not been a Black for over twenty years. Ran off and married a ‘Filthy Mudblood’ and that was me out of the family,” she shook her head. “I suppose they never told you about me?”

“No,” Draco said, feeling stupid at being so lost for words. “But I’m very glad to meet you.”

Tonks returned at that moment after doing a sweep around the edge of the property to check the defensive spellwork and pulled a face as Andromeda leaned forward to peck her on the cheek. 

“Nymphadora, you look simply awful in that Muggle get up, come inside and change.”

“Mum! I’ve told you to call me Tonks.” Tonks looked like a recalcitrant toddler as she wiggled free of her Mother’s grasp and headed for the house. 

“Now really, I’m not going to call you Tonks. It’s how you’d address your gardener or house keeper, certainly not your daughter. Come on, Draco, we have some more suitable clothes for you as well.”

*  
Draco walked through the low doorway and emerged into a homely kitchen complete with copper pots and pans and strings of onions. It looked like it was well used by someone who liked cooking and wondered if that could possibly be his Aunt. He’d never seen his Mother enter their kitchen save to berate their house-elf if a dish wasn’t absolutely up to scratch.

“Was that Dora?” There was the sound of heavy feet on the stairs and then a big man with a thatch of straw-coloured hair appeared. He approached Draco with a smile of cautious welcome on his frank, open face. 

“Ah, you must be Draco. They said you’d be coming.”

“This is my husband, Ted.” said his Aunt. “I suppose that makes him your Uncle.”

“Hello,” Draco said, nervously tugging his sleeve down as he took Ted’s offered hand.

If he noticed the Mark, now clearly visible below the to-short sleeves of Vernon Dursley’s shirt Ted didn’t show it. “You’ll be wanting some robes I suppose.” 

“I’ve patched up some of your old ones for Draco, Ted.” Andromeda nodded towards the stairs. “They’re in the spare room. Would you show him up so he can get settled in. I’ve got to put the potatoes in otherwise there’ll be no dinner for Remus later today.”

Draco followed his newest relative up the stairs and into a small but perfectly clean bedroom. On the bed were three sets of Wizard robes cut in a practical style as well as Pyjamas and a comfortable looking robe. The robes certainly were well worn but right now he was grateful for anything he was given.

On the bedside table was a wand stand and a photograph that brought a sudden lump to his throat.

Waving up at him out of the frame were his Mum and Dad and a crowd of people in dress robes and gowns. He’d seen the photograph before of course, the same one stood on their mantelpiece in the drawing room at home. His Mother must have sent it to her sister after the Wedding. He picked it up and turned it over, sure enough his Mother’s elegant looping writing curled its way across the back of the frame. 

Andromeda, I wanted you to have this and I don’t care what Mama says. If you ever want to come home; Lucius and I will welcome you.

They’d have been barely twenty when that was taken. His Father looked so happy. Draco let his fingers brush over the lines of dried ink and took a few seconds to collect himself before setting the picture back in its place.

“She didn’t send me any others.” His Aunt’s voice startled him out of his reverie and he turned to see her standing uncertainly in the doorway. “But then, I suppose, I never wrote back to her after I ran away. I was,” she hesitated as if she wasn’t sure how to say what came next. “I was sorry to hear about your Father.”

There is was again. That sense of dislocating grief. He couldn’t stop the tears this time and found that he didn’t really want to. He let Andromeda sit down beside him and, shorn of any need to pretend he didn’t need such things, let himself be held and comforted.

“I won’t tell you that it’s going to be alright,” Andromeda said gently some five minutes later when the worst was past. “Because it might not be. But if there’s anything we can do to help Narcissa and you to survive this then Ted and I will do it. There’s been enough loss already in our family.”

Draco scrubbed his palms over his eyes sighing. “Thanks. I – did they say anything about bringing Mum out?”

“Not to me. We’re not in the Order.” Andromeda shook her head. “Nymphadora might know, or Remus. We’ll have supper ready for them in about an hour if you’d like to come.”

*

Draco took his time coming downstairs again, grateful for the time alone to think. He picked up the photo again and looked at it for a long time and then hearing the chatter of voices in the main rooms below put it down and headed to dinner.

Tonks, his cousin he reminded himself still unfamiliar with the idea of having a whole new family, was there and beside her stood…Draco stopped dead at the foot of the stairs. 

“Lupin?”

“Ah,” Professor Lupin’s smile of greeting did not reach his eyes and nor did he offer Draco his hand. “Mr Malfoy.”

“You’ve met?” Aunt Andromeda smiled. “Well that’s something at least.”

“You could say that.” Lupin said shortly. “What’s for dinner, Andromeda?”

Draco didn’t move from his position apart from to make sure he could get his wand up quickly if he needed to. Didn’t these people know what Lupin was? Hadn’t it been all over the papers? Tonks was looking at him suspiciously. “Is there a problem, Malfoy?”

“He’s…” Draco began, taking another step back up the stairs. “How can you associate with that thing?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Aunt Andromeda shot him a warning look whilst Tonk’s hair turned an immediate acid green.

“I see your change of allegiance has done little for your manners, Mr Malfoy.” Lupin said mildly. “I assure you that you are quite safe in my company. The only thing I intend to tear into is Andromeda’s delicious Pork Chops.”

“Remus is a family friend, Draco.” Ted said steadily. “Soon to be family in fact.”

“But he’s a Werewolf!” Draco looked between the faces of Ted, his Aunt and his cousin, looking for any sign that he wasn’t the only person here who could see how dangerous Lupin was.

“Yes,” his Aunt sounded just the slightest bit strained. “We are aware.”

“He’s a man,” Tonks said fiercely, drawing closer to Lupin. “And a much better one than you, Malfoy.”

“Now really, Nymphadora…” began Aunt Andromeda, “Draco is our guest.”

“Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots.” Tonks said, giving Draco a very unpleasant look indeed. “Honestly, Mum – they disowned you. Why are you bothering with him?”

“Because we have to be better than them, Dora.” Lupin said gently. “And its hardly only Death Eaters and followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who feel this way about my kind. What do you say, Mr Malfoy. Shall we try and at least be polite to one another for the sake of those kind enough not to condemn us for our worst aspects?”

For the first time since the whole unpleasant exchange had began Draco felt the faintest flicker of shame. He looked at the anxious face of his Aunt and then back to Lupin. Finally, he gave a stiff nod though was pleased when Lupin still made no move to touch him. 

“Well,” Ted said with a somewhat forced geniality, pulling back his chair and sitting down at the long kitchen table “let’s eat down then.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is second chapter in two days. This is the pandemic's fault and I won't be able to keep it up. I promise I'll finish this fic however and I know where I am gonna go with it. It's self indulgent wish fulfillment and I make no apologies for this :D

In the end the dinner managed to be a reasonably cheerful occasion. Happy family dinners were not something Draco had experienced recently. Not since the summer before his 5th year now two years ago and even then his Dad had ruined that by complaining about his wasting his time with Quidditch when he should have been doing something useful with his time, useful like what Draco had wondered and then had found out all too brutally over the next twenty four months just what that word meant when it concerned the Malfoys and struggling to survive amidst the changing world. His newly discovered family talked about small concerns, work pressures and broom craft and someone's upcoming wedding. It would have been wonderful to still be able to worry about that sort of thing. His Mum always listened so indulgently to his enthusiastic accounts of his Quidditch games. He missed her.

Would the Dark Lord let her retrieve his Dad's body?

The Mark on his arm flared to life painfully again and he dropped his fork with the shock of it. A quick glance around the room told him that only Lupin, and it had to be Lupin didn't it, had noticed. Draco couldn't look the man in the face. He offered to help his Aunt with the dishes just to have an excuse not to be at that table anymore. He took a lot longer over washing five plates and some saucepans than he had a right to. Andromeda left him alone, no doubt guessing the reason for his slow progress. Tonks excused herself and bid farewell to her Mum and Dad. He turned to watch her leave noting that her hair had returned to the vibrant pink she seemed to prefer. She looked at him with an expression like she had just swallowed an extra sour Fizzing Whizbee, gave a curt nod of acknowledgment and left.

Remus Lupin was looking at him a little warily, as if not sure how to say what came next. "I'm afraid that our evening is not over, Mr Malfoy. The Order would like me to debrief you."

"I'm not in the Order." Draco said stubbornly, holding up the last plate against his chest like it was a shield.

"But you have lived at the Headquarters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Lupin continued patiently, "there may be things you know that could be useful to us."

"What about my Mum?" He hated that his voice cracked right at that moment and hated Lupin more for the look of pity in the Werewolf's eyes. "She's still there. If I help you and He finds out...he'll murder her too."

Ted looked between the two of them and sighed. "Leave the boy for tonight Remus, there's nothing he can tell you now that will make any difference before morning."

Lupin looked very much like he wanted to argue the point but in the end sighed and stood up. "Very well. thank you for the meal Andromeda, Ted. I will see you tomorrow morning Mr Malfoy."

Lupin left and the awkward silence hovered a little in his wake. Eventually Andromeda looked around the kitchen and seemed to deem it acceptably tidy. "I think I'll run a bath, dear." She said to her husband. "Are you going to see to the animals?"

'Right you are," Ted said comfortably, "bucket of scraps is under the sink Draco. Come on."

Draco was tired of arguments and couldn't think of a good excuse not to do as he was asked. He sighed, bent down to pick up the container of scraps and followed Ted Tonks out into the small farmyard. Ted moved methodically from pen to pen, taking generous handfuls of food scraps and sprinkling them into the troughs. A gaggle of chickens sensed the opportunity and followed the two of them around clucking and pecking in their wake. 

Draco had always liked birds, at home the Peacocks and Peahens would do the same thing when his Dad had gone out to feed them each morning. Theo Nott had laughed himself stupid when Draco had first casually mentioned his Dad's hobby and his entourage of pale peacocks all named after famous Malfoy ancestors. Now that memory which had always bought a smile to his face, was tinged with pain as well.

"You can set the bucket down there," Ted pointed to a battered looking table next to the main door to the farmhouse and then turned to stroll off down the path towards a rickety looking shed. Draco wasn't sure if he was being expected to follow or not but after a brief internal debate he set the scrap bucket down and hurried to catch up.

"Do the charms extend this far?" He asked anxiously as Ted pulled out a key and turned it in the padlock.

"Of course, son. Wouldn't have let you come down here if they didn't."

"I'm not your son." Draco muttered before he could stop himself. The lack of any reply from Ted Tonks to this was the second time that evening Draco swore to himself to think before he spoke from now on. The door to the shed opened and Ted reached around the door to activate what Draco now recognised as a Muggle Lumos charm. The room was dominated by a giant expanse of green table and around the edges were tables packed high with containers and paint pots. He leaned in, intrigued, as he made out tiny model houses and miniature forests. It was like someone had taken the County and shrunk it until it fitted on this table.

"What's this?"

"My train set. Dromeda won't have it in the house and spell work messes it about so I keep it here. Number 503 has a loose axel I've been meaning to fix."

"Train set?" Draco frowned, taking in the intricate details. "Like for kids?"

"No," Ted said patiently, "look. There was a sudden barely audible hiss and then below them a brightly painted train in yellow and black was meandering its way around the table. "That's Helga's Hope. She was a present from Dora on my 50th."

"How do you make the Shrinking Solution permanent?"

Ted smiled. "There's no magic here. All done by hand. Me Dad had something like this when I was a lad. I've just carried it on. Been working on this set up since before Dora was born."

"Oh," Draco hovered awkwardly half in the door, "Well...it looks...nice."

"Been meaning to re-do the forest down by Ben's Brook." Ted continued, his attention now focused on a train with midnight blue paint which he held upside down in his hands, fiddling with a wheel. "Paint's over in the back draw on the left."

Draco found the paint right where it was supposed to be and followed the small sliver of silvery glue like material that he supposed must be the brook. "What did you want to do to the forest?"

"Oh I don't mind," Ted shrugged, "use your imagination."

They settled into a comfortable silence, the occasional chink of tools or muttered exclamation from Ted was all the sound there was for the next half an hour or so. This wasn't something Draco ever thought he would enjoy doing and knew that even four weeks ago he probably would have enjoyed roundly mocking anyone who did but all the same it was nice. The forest now had a clearing in it and a run for the horses that Draco imagined lived in the miniature manor house at the top of the hill leading down to the brook.

"I don't know the ins and outs of it," Ted said suddently. "but I know you've had a rough time of it. I'm sure you're scared and afraid and if you're anything like Andromeda you don't want to admit it."

Draco stared down at the landscape beneath them. Perhaps he could touch up the grass. There was a patch where it looked a little worn. "You don't know me." He said stiffly. "Or what I'm capable of." He'd jammed the tree he was positioning too hard into the surface and it had snapped. He'd pulled out his wand to repair it before he even realised what he as doing.

Ted put down the train and faced Draco. His honest face had lost its smile now and he looked serious and sombre. "True, I don't, But I'm married to one of your family who did what you've just done and I know how much it hurt her to do it."

Draco shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. "She chose you."

"And you chose this." Ted made an expansive gesture that took in the room and beyond it the farm. "You chose to turn your back on everything you know and pick a better path."

"I ran away." Draco said bitterly. "I'm not some hero like Potter. There's no point pretending that I am."

"Well no," Ted said slowly, "but if you can't be a hero at least you might try not still being the villain."

Draco bit back another sharp retort and sighed. "This is because of what I said about Lupin, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ted sounded a little more abrupt now. "None of us can help how we're made, son. We can help what we do about it though and Remus is a good man whatever curse he carries."

"I know I shouldn't have." Draco could feel his face heating. "It's just hard, you know."

"Welcome to life," Ted gave him a tired smile. "It's all hard. It doesn't get easy because you made one good choice, you have to keep making good choices and when you make a mistake you say sorry and try to do better."

"Fine, then - " Draco squirmed with embarrassment and shame that this man would be so kind to him when he had been so ungrateful and stupid. "I'm sorry I was rude to Lupin."

"I'm not the one you owe that apology to, son." Ted said gently. "But I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing it when you tell him." His face brightened and he picked up the train he'd been working on. "She's ready to run. Want to give it a go?"

Draco felt his stomach unknot at being given an out from the uncomfortable position of having his faults so neatly laid out on display. "Okay." He took the train and placed it delicately on the tracks. "How does it go? Locomotor?"

“No magic.” Ted flicked a lever and watched in satisfaction as the train ran smoothly away. “Good as new.”

“But nothing’s touching it…how did the Muggles come up with this?”

“You’d be surprised at what Muggles can do. Some things they can do better than Wizards.” Ted flicked the lever and the train stopped as soon as it had started. “I can show you how they work if you want but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

Draco followed Ted back up to the house and slipped quietly upstairs.

*  
The next morning he came downstairs in his pyjamas to find Lupin already at the breakfast table. The Werewolf gave him a once over and then nodded to a pot perched on the oventop.

“Your Aunt is down at the village. She left you some porridge on the stove.”

It took a few moments hunting through the cupboards for Draco to find a bowl and another long thirty seconds to summon the courage to sit down at the table. He poured himself a cup of strong tea and then paused, feeling Lupin’s eyes on him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Would you err…like some tea?”

“No,” Lupin’s eyes sparkled with sudden amusement. The man knew he was squirming and was actually enjoying it, “thank you Mr Malfoy.”

“But you are a Werewolf.” He burst out finally. “I mean, sure you’re not pinning me down and threatening to rip out my throat but we both know it’s only a matter of time.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lupin said mildly, “depends how much you annoy me really.”

Draco stared at Lupin. The laugh escaping him before he could stop it. He took another sip of tea and then sighed. “I know I was rude.” Why was this so hard? “And…I am sorry.”

Lupin was still looking at him with faint amusement but something in his expression softened and he nodded. “Thank you. Let’s say no more about it. Now, when you are ready; I would like to start the debriefing.”

Lupin waited patiently for him to finish his breakfast and then come down looking a little more presentable. After that they began a long and painful dissection of every awful thing that Draco had witnessed over the last year and a half. Lupin gave no sign of surprise as he listed off the Death Eaters whose names he knew and the way the Death Eaters operated in so far as Draco had been able to work it out. He seemed particularly interested in Snape, asking several times for Draco to back track over a detail or conversation.

“Can we talk about my Mum now?” He asked eventually when Lupin’s quill had at last stilled and there were no more questions. “Dumbledore said – before Snape – he said he’d be able to get her out. You must have ways?”

“I know this is very hard, Mr Malfoy.” Lupin said slowly. “But your Mother is at the heart of His headquarters and likely being watched closely.”

“There must be a way.” Draco hated how small his voice sounded right now. How pathetic he must look to this man he had taunted so mercilessly. With nothing else to lose he finally surrendered the last of his dignity. “Please…”

Lupin sighed and leaned back in his chair. “There are not enough of us, Draco. If Snape had not betrayed us then perhaps the Order could have done as Dumbledore promised but now...” he trailed off and then seemed to rally himself. “You could help us, join and fight.”

Draco shook his head, a wave of terror crashing over him. “He’ll kill me.”

Lupin looked at him steadily. “If he wins, Mr Malfoy, he’ll kill you anyway.”


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next few days Draco gradually found himself a new routine. It was amazing what you could get used to, he thought, kneeling in the dirt and pulling up weeds from the vegetable garden. He could have used magic of course but there was something good about having to do it the slow way. At least he could feel like he was doing something. 

When he wasn’t finding something to do around the farm, he read his way through the bookshelves and listened obsessively to the Wireless for any hint of what was happening. Lupin and Nymphadora visited almost every night but they very rarely had any news to share or at least not with him.

For a week and a half he was able to fool himself into believing that somehow things would just continue like this and he’d be able to wait out the conflict and stroll out the other-side with life somehow back to normal. 

Every now and again though something would happen that underlined just how strange his new life was. Like the evening at dinner where Tonks, after her third helping of stew and dumplings, put her knife down and looked nervously towards Aunt Andromeda.

“Mum, we’d like to move the wedding up.”

“But…but we’ve got it all booked for August dear, the caterers…”

“The Ministry are passing laws, Andromeda,” Lupin looked tired today, Draco thought, or more tired than usual. “If we wait until August; we may not be able to marry.”

“But surely it’s better to wait and…”

“We’re doing it.” Tonks said firmly in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’ve spoken to Dedalus. He can officiate. We’d like to do it here.”

“Well, of course you can have it here, darling but when…”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Aunt Andromeda looked ready to faint. Draco imagined what his own Mother would say if given twenty-four hours to organise his wedding. Maybe one day, if they all survived this, he’d get the chance to find out.

“Don’t worry, Dromeda,” Ted said comfortingly. “We don’t need anything but the happy couple and Dedalus. Everything else is just extra trimming. Remember our wedding?”

Draco had been to a few weddings, there was the Rosiers when he was eight and then Pansy’s older sister in the summer before he’d started at Hogwarts. More recently was Blaise’s Mother’s union to Cato Fawley. Those weddings had been impressive multi-day celebrations when all of the Great Families had come together to mingle and form alliances. He was certain this would not be like those weddings at all.

“Who is coming?” He asked. “Should I – well – not be here?”

“That might be for the best,” Tonks frowned and then, catching her Mother’s look rolled her eyes. “Alright, he can come then.”  
*  
“I know they don’t want me there,” Draco complained later, fiddling awkwardly with the miniature fencing around the village square he was constructing on the far side of the train set. “I mean who wants their loser of a cousin crashing their wedding? I wouldn’t.”

“If they didn’t want you there, Draco, they would say so.” Ted put down the box he’d been fixing. Draco had been intrigued by the idea of fuses but after the third electric shock had decided to leave it to someone who understood how electricity worked. “They’re adults and can make their own choices.”

“I’m an adult. Why can’t I choose not to go?” Draco sighed. “What am I supposed to do there? Bake the dog biscuits? Present matching collars for the rings?”

Ted’s lips quirked in a supressed smile. “Not the Best Man speech with material like that, that’s for sure.” 

“Lupin wants me to join the Order.” Draco said finally. “Maybe that’s why they want me to come, buttering me up so I’ll come along and risk my neck.”

Ted gave him a skeptical look. “Do you really think that?” 

Draco shrugged. “I don’t have much faith in people not to have an agenda.”

Ted set the train down on the track and successfully ran it over the problematic set of points with a sigh of satisfaction. “Here’s another life lesson, son. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

Draco looked at him curiously. “What?”

“Sometimes people just say what they mean and nothing else.”

“No one I’ve ever met.” Draco muttered.

“And that, son, is half your problem. Now can you pass me the box of number 8 wire?”

*

For all his worry about the wedding it really was quite a nice. No one was there apart from the happy couple, his Aunt and Uncle and a tiny Wizard who could have given Professor Flitwick a run for his money in a who is shortest competition.

“Dedalus is in the Order,” Tonks had said to Draco quietly when she’d spotted him lurking uncertainly in the living room. “He won’t give you away.”

He kept himself a little out of the way anyway at the back of the small gathering still feeling like he didn’t belong here. His cousin, would he have to call her Lupin now as well, looked radiantly happy even in a plain dress with no fuss or glamour to speak of. Draco felt a strange mix of jealousy and happiness for her and his old teacher. His heart ached for his family, thoughts of home and the knowledge that all of that was gone forever. 

Later, when he was sat quietly on the far side of the garden watching Remus and Nymphadora dance whilst Ted played the violin, Aunt Andromeda appeared silently by his side.

“You look deep in thought, Draco.”

Draco looked over at her. “I’m imagining what my Dad would think if he could see me now.”

“I think he’d be glad.” Andromeda said and shook her head smiling at the sound of his scoffing laughter. “He cared about you, Draco. He would never have wanted you to have to be part of all that violence and murder.”

“I wanted to be though,” Draco said softly. “I wanted to be just like him, make him proud, restore the family standing.”

“And you’re not going to be part of it.” She slipped her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeezing hug. “That’s precisely why he’d be glad. You’re alive and whole and you can still make him proud; make the family better than it was. What parent wouldn’t be proud of a child who could do that?”

“Are you angling for me to join the order too?” Draco couldn’t quite keep the note of resignation out of his voice even as he thought back to Ted’s words last night. 

“No,” she said simply. “If it were up to me; I’d have us all well out of it, but I’ve got a Muggleborn for a husband and a Hufflepuff for a daughter. Neither of them could keep out of it if they wanted to.”

“I’m going to try and get away.” Draco admitted. “Once I have worked out where and how. I want to go to America perhaps. We’ve got property there and I might be able to fade into obscurity.”

“I hope you can.” She said quietly, looking over at the happy couple. “Before it’s too late.”  
*

Draco had always assumed that no matter what happened to him he’d always be able to count on his Family name and the large pile of gold they had stored up in the lowest vaults of Gringotts. As it turned out he’d been wrong about that and everything was much harder without money and connections.

He’d sent an Owl to MACUSA’s embassy under Nymphadora’s name the day after the wedding with some general enquiries about how one might re-settle in the Americas but a week later had heard nothing back. The Prophet listed more mysterious resignations and stories of Muggleborns either ‘stepping aside’ or otherwise being found dead in very unpleasant circumstances.

The evening of the 27th of July started out more or less in the way all the other evenings had. Lupin and Tonks hadn’t come to dinner that evening and his Aunt and Uncle seemed on edge but that wasn’t so unusual as to ring any serious alarms. Draco had fed the animals with Ted, gone down to the shed and watched his Uncle carefully construct a Level Crossing and then, back at the house had found himself a good book to read on defensive spellwork.

He must have fallen asleep because the sound of the crash woke him up.

His Aunt came sprinting past, wand in hand. “They’ve crashed, Ted! Crashed in the garden!”

Draco made a grab for his own wand and stood, making his way cautiously to the door. He couldn’t make out anything in the dim moonless night. 

“Draco,” That was Ted, staggering under the weight of something huge. He shook his head as Draco reached out to help. “I’m alright. Go and help your Aunt.”

Venturing forward by the light of his wand Draco made his way carefully down the garden path, heart hammering and wand clenched tightly in his fingers. “Is it Death Eaters? I didn’t feel the Mark…”

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could make out a shape of a person in a huddled heap right in the middle of the vegetable patch, Aunt Andromeda bent over them. 

“He’s alive and breathing alright,” she sounded too relieved for it to be an invasion of Dark Wizards. “Help me get him into the house and be careful of that arm. Looks to be a nasty break.”

Draco crouched down to help her and at last the light shone in the right place for him to get a good look at the figure. His heart gave a strange skip in his chest as he saw that Harry Potter was lying unconscious in the middle of his Aunt’s prized patch of Heirloom Tomatoes.

“What’s he doing here?” Draco said, scanning the sky anxiously, “Is he being chased?”

Andromeda didn’t answer him but carefully levitated Potter and between her and Draco they managed to get him inside and onto the low settee where only five minutes before Draco had been sleeping. Ted came downstairs, a bag in hand and moved straight to Potter, brisk and business-like. 

“Leave him with me, Dromeda. Draco, go and boil me some water for these dehydrated potions and don’t let Rubeus interrupt us, Harry will be perfectly fine if I’m allowed to work without distraction.”

Draco didn’t argue and was already in the kitchen and reaching for the saucepans when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder and spun him around.

“You,” Professor Hagrid’s face, where it was visible through his tangled beard was red and his eyes were narrowed with suspicion, “what are you doing here?”

“I could very well ask you the same question,” Draco snapped irritably. “Get out of my way I’ve got to boil some water for Ted.”

“I’ll boil you, Malfoy…what is happening. Is he….”

At that moment Andromeda rescued Draco from Hagrid’s attentions when she came through into the kitchen. “Ted’s with him Hagrid, he says everything will be fine. What happened?”

“We were ambushed, weren’t we?” Hagrid sat back down at the table on two chairs which creaked ominously under his weight. Freed from the need to pay any attention to him Draco quickly filled the pan and directed his wand at the base until it was steaming. He headed back into the Living Room to hearing his Aunt begin to question Hagrid anxiously about Tonks. 

Ted glanced over the water and nodded, pointing to a collection of small glass containers in an open draw of his fold out bag. “Good, fill these vials and give them a good shake.” Another minute or so later Ted had poured the contents of the potion down Potter’s throat.

The other boy began to stir and then sat bolt upright, reaching for a wand that wasn’t there. “Voldemort!”

Draco flinched at the name and moved automatically back as his Uncle started to reassure Potter. 

“No,” Potter said forcefully, “there were Death Eaters, loads of then.” 

Draco felt a sickening lurch as Potter looked over Ted’s shoulder and locked eyes with him as he said it. “I was asleep,” he said defensively. “It had nothing to do with me.”

Draco saw his Uncle tense at Potter’s words. “Death Eaters? What d’you mean Death Eaters? I thought they didn’t know you were being moved tonight? I thought -”

“They knew.” Potter had at least stopped looking at him and followed Ted’s gaze up as if they could see the charm-work over the house. 

“Well, at least we know our protective charms hold. They won’t be able to get within a hundred feet of the place in any direction.”

“Should I,” Draco began but Ted cut him off. “We’re safe for now Draco and so are you. If they aren’t here now its because they can’t get here.”

At that moment Hagrid squeezed his way through the kitchen door knocking over furniture. Potter, who had been momentarily distracted by Hagrid’s forceful greeting then looked up to see Aunt Andromeda. Draco could hardly blame Potter for going for his wand, it was exactly what Draco himself had done but it did sting a little to see the hurt in his Aunt’s eyes. She wasn’t Bellatrix and had nothing to do with the crimes her family had committed yet still suffered from the association. 

“Hagrid said you were ambushed,” she said eventually. “What happened to our daughter?”

Draco’s eyes locked on Potter’s again for a moment and saw the doubt and guilt there as Potter admitted that he didn’t know if Nymphadora Tonks was alive or dead. If this was an example of Potter’s great plan to conquer the Dark Lord then it made Draco all the more determined to make it out of Britain just as soon as he could. 

They didn’t stay long after that, taking a portkey back to wherever it was they had originally agreed to return to and promising to send word of Tonks as soon as they could. It was a long and anxious wait for the next two hours before a large silvery Patronus burst through the wall and spoke in Nymphadora’s voice.

“It’s okay Mum, we’re safe. Remus and I will be there for tea tonight.”

Aunt Andromeda burst into tears, sobbing on Ted’s shoulder. “I was so worried. I thought she was dead.”

“Well she isn’t and we’ll be able to see her later today.” Ted was saying kindly. “Come on now, none of us will be better for being tired. Get some rest and I’ll keep a watch until morning.”

“No,” Draco said suddenly. “I can do it. You both go and sleep. It’s the least I can do.”

Ted looked at him for a long few seconds and then nodded as if he’d satisfied himself of something important. “Alright, but you wake me at the first sign of anything, do you hear?”

Draco agreed that he would and let them make their way upstairs. The House felt strangely peaceful now for all the turmoil of the last few hours. He made himself a cup of tea and opened the door to the garden where he could get a good view of the surrounding approach to the house. The new day was already a thin ribbon of grey light on the eastern horizon and Draco felt genuinely pleased to have survived to see it.


	7. Chapter 7

“Well done for last night.” Ted gave him a genuine smile when he finally came down the next morning and found Draco still sat keeping watch. “You kept your head and did what I needed you to do. Have you ever thought about becoming a Healer?”

“I haven’t thought much about anything past tomorrow lately,” Draco shrugged. “And before that no not really. I don’t know what I thought I’d do before all this, the last year at school was a bit of a write off.”

“You should,” Ted patted him on the shoulder. “We need people with a good calm temperament.”

“Maybe,” Draco felt a strange mix of pride and embarrassment at being praised for something like this. “How is Aunt Andromeda?”

Ted frowned. “Shaken, and badly. This is taking a toll on her but she’s strong, she’ll get through.”

“Do you think there will be more Death Eaters?”

Ted looked up again at the clear blue July day. “I think we ought to prepare a way to hide you for when they come looking, because they will.”

Draco didn’t feel like sleeping, tired as he was by the disruption of the night and lack of sleep. It felt easier, as always, to be doing something than simply sitting there. He spent the day mending the broken fencing in the garden and replanting the tomatoes where he could. Nymphadora and Lupin came to eat just as they had promised, both looking as tired and drawn as Draco and his Aunt and Uncle. Neither of them would say where Potter was now and Draco didn’t really care to push it. 

“It’s getting bad.” Was all Lupin would say when asked about the changing situation. “He’s getting more and more powerful.”

“How’s your defensive spellwork, Draco?” Andromeda asked him a little anxiously. “Would you like to practice?”

“It – it could be better.” Draco admitted. Defence Against the Dark Arts had never really been a priority for him and it was almost the only class that his Father had allowed him to scrape by in. “I never actually thought I’d need defending against it.” He finished lamely, feeling the scornful eyes of his cousin burning a hole with her gaze.

“You were a reasonable student when I taught you,” Lupin chimed in. “I’m sure with practice you’d improve.” 

Draco bit back an automatic acerbic reply and turned his attention back to his pie.

*

The next day Ted was still at home when Draco came downstairs, at Draco’s questioning look Ted gave a strange shrug and half smile. “Apparently my expertise is no longer required.”

“But there have been attacks everywhere…” Draco began and then his brain caught up with his mouth. “They passed the law, didn’t they?”

Ted nodded grimly. “Blood status is required for entry into any Profession or Ministerial office. I don’t have it so…” he made a dismissive gesture. “It’s not a surprise really and I think that after last night I’d probably have found myself quietly pushed out anyway.”

“Still,” Draco shook his head. “It’s so stupid. They need Healers.”

“No one’s claiming it makes sense, son.” Ted sighed. “Still, I suppose we’ll have time for that spell practice now at any rate.”

They cleared a space outside and to begin with set up targets. Draco could manage a stunning spell with ease and Ted was impressed with Draco’s Disillusionment charm which he declared better than anything he himself could produce. The shield charms were slightly more difficult, Draco found that he kept getting distracted and letting the spell either falter or he himself be turned aside and left vulnerable.

The question of what to do if, not when, the Death Eaters came to the house again lurked unaddressed throughout the whole morning of practice. If Draco was found sheltering here then his Aunt and Uncle would almost certainly be killed in short order. When she came to eat later that day, with Lupin as ever by her side, Tonks was the one who suggested the concealment charms on a narrow space between the walls.

“You might only have a few minutes,” she said, her manner brisk and to the point just like her Father when he was working on something, “but if you get there in time then there’s a good chance they won’t spot you.”

“A good chance?” Aunt Andromeda looked nervously between her daughter and Draco. “I’d like a little more certainty than that.”

Tonks shook her head. “There isn’t any certainty where this is concerned. I’m going by what I found hardest to detect when I was working for the Office. We’re trained to look for stuff like this, Death Eaters are mostly just thuggish scum with no real skill to their spell work.” Her eyes flicked sideways. “Present company excepted.”

*  
An hour or so later Draco and Tonks stood beside one of the two narrow cavities they had identified as suitable.

“I’d do it but it has to be your spells or they’ll break if the Ministry – well when the Ministry falls under His control.” She was saying, after his third attempt had proven futile.

Draco nodded and tried again, feeling a brief surge of satisfaction as he felt the spell unfurl. “Are you so sure it’ll happen?”

Tonks nodded grimly and made a complicated gesture with her wand. “Seems good, get in and I’ll try to see if I can undo it.”

The crawl space was extremely narrow and filled with dust and spiders. Neither of these things particularly bothered him after a year spent in the vanishing cabinet but still he hoped never to have to use this particular hideaway. After a solid ten minutes Tonks declared herself satisfied and gave him a rare smile. 

Having somewhere safe to hide didn’t make him feel much more secure though and he still kept up the study on spells to conceal and buy time to escape. He couldn’t practice his Apparition without stepping outside the bounds of the protective enchantments and so Ted and he made an exception to their usual routine of going down to the shed in favour of learning some basic healing spells for emergencies in the event he found himself splinched and bleeding out somewhere.

Over that few days he studied harder than he could ever recall doing before, everything made so much more real by the now clear effects on Ted, Lupin and Tonks. 

“What about Dementors?” Lupin said on the final day of July as he sat back to watch Draco successfully re-divert Ted’s hex for the third time in a row. “They’re everywhere these days. You should try and master the Patronus charm.”

“Is that the thing Potter sent at me when…”

“When you thought it would be a good idea to scare and bully him into losing a Quidditch match?” Lupin gave him a flat and unimpressed look. “Yes. And a very good Patronus it was too for such a young Wizard.”

“I can’t do that,” Draco shook his head. “It’s N.E.W.T standard at least.”

“So are Disillusionment charms,” Lupin countered, “and you do those as well as anyone. I taught Harry in his third year so I’m sure you could manage it.”

Why on earth Lupin was bothering with him was beyond Draco but the man insisted they at least try so Draco decided the least he could do was let Lupin have a go. Lupin demonstrated the charm easily, a great silver wolf leaping out of his wand and rushing at Draco who ducked out of the way, much to Ted’s amusement.

“So,” Lupin straightened his robes. “The incantation is simple, the difficult part is the selection of the memory for the thought. You need to find a time in your life where you were happiest, imagine that and project it outwards.”

“Happy memory?” Draco said skeptically, “so I’m supposed to think happy thoughts until the Dementor goes away?”

Lupin exchanged a look of mild impatience with Ted and then sighed. “Please try the spell, Mr Malfoy.”

A happy memory? Well there had been the day that his match to Pansy had been announced formally. Dad had been happy then, ecstatic in fact. Or getting into the Quidditch team, that had felt good even if he’d had to get a helping hand with the broom donations. His Dad was in every memory he thought of, dominating and judging his every shortcoming. He’d been happy with his Mum but now every thought of her turned to the Dark Lord and thoughts of pain and misery.

The two older Wizards looked at one another again and this time Draco definitely saw pity there. 

“I was happy.” He said shortly. “My parents loved me.”

“Sometimes,” Lupin said slowly, “a particularly difficult experience can…”

“This is all stupid anyway,” Draco burst out. “I don’t know why I’m bothering with this, all it means is I get to live a little longer before they murder me anyway.”

And with that he shoved his wand back in the pocket of his cloak and stalked back up the path to the house. How nice for perfect Potter that he had so many lovely memories to choose from. Draco should have had that, could have had that if his family hadn’t been so swallowed up by pride and ambition. Thinking of his Dad brought everything back to the surface again and he stormed past a surprised Aunt Andromeda and back up to his tiny bedroom.

He wasn’t sure if he was happy or not when half an hour later there was a knock on the door and Ted put his head around it.

“Can I come in?”

Draco shrugged and sat up on the bed to make room for him. “It’s your house.” 

“Remus feels bad for today,” Ted sat down heavily and gave Draco a significant look. “Neither of us meant to bring up difficult memories for you.”

Draco fidgeted with the binding of the book he’d been trying to read just before Ted came in. He knew he could push his Uncle away and put up the walls of sneering condescension that had kept him safe for so many years but Ted had proven himself safe to be a little more open around than that.

“I didn’t think I had any difficult memories – well not before this last year.” He said quietly, “but then everything I thought of had my Dad in it…and now he’s – dead -” Draco forced the word out and paused again. “I don’t know how to undo what he made me.”

“Parents can cast long shadows in a person’s life.” Ted remarked.

“Aunt Andromeda said Dad would be proud of me.” Draco paused and swallowed, wiping the tears away as they threatened to fall. “But I know he wouldn’t. I know he’d be ashamed of me. He died because I wasn’t the son he wanted me to be. Now I’m here and I can’t be what Lupin and the Order want either. I’m just putting everyone in danger and being useless.”

“You’re not useless, Draco. You’ve had a terrifying experience, lots of them in fact and lost a parent in awful circumstances. That would throw anyone let alone someone barely seventeen.”

“No one else cares about that.” All his fears and insecurities began to bubble up now. “They just see my family and judge me on it. No matter what I do I’ll always just be Lucius Malfoy’s son.”

“Feels pretty bad to be judged by your blood and not your character, doesn’t it?”

“I know.” Draco smiled bitterly, “I know I’m just reaping what I’ve sown.”

Ted shook his head decisively. “Now, I didn’t say that. No one wants to see a person in pain, son, not if it can be avoided. But if the pain can’t be avoided then at least it should do some good. I think it’s good that you see these things now and outgrow what your family made you.”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that beyond a surprised and grateful muttered thank you. No one said anything about the afternoon’s events over supper that evening. Tomorrow was the Wedding of Bill Weasley to Fleur Delacour and Lupin and Tonks were full of happy chatter about the plans for the celebration. It was nice to have something good in the world, he decided, even if it involved the Weasley family.


	8. Chapter 8

The charms fell at five minutes past six in the evening the next day. Draco heard the crack and felt the pop of the pressure change as he looked up from pruning the Bowtruckle’s hedge. “Aunt Andromeda!”  
She was already hurrying down the path to the shed where Ted had retreated to lay another branch line. “I know, quickly, go inside.”

The Mark was burning black by the time he made it to the hiding spot and squeezed himself inside, casting a disillusionment charm over himself for good measure. He had made it just in time as from downstairs the sound of angry voices could be heard.

Draco strained to make them out.

“…is my house and I have the right to determine who comes onto my property.” That was his Aunt and she sounded more like Aunt Bellatrix than ever.

“We go where we choose. Where is Harry Potter?.”

“I went to school with you, Avery. I was your wife’s best friend. Why are you doing this?”

There was a sudden terrible scream of a woman in awful torment. Draco started so badly his head made a painful connection with the beam only an inch from his head. He crammed his knuckles into his mouth to stop from making a sound and forced himself to breathe steadily.

“That is what I think of your worthiness, Andromeda Black. Now I ask you again. Where is Harry Potter?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His Aunt’s snarling defiance at least reassured him that she was alive.

Another scream. Ted this time. Draco bit down harder on his fingers as a thump sounded against the wall what felt like feet from where he was. The same awful calmness of the voice and the question:  
“Where is Harry Potter?”

“Why would we know where the boy is?” Ted’s voice sounded angrier than his wife’s. “What possible reason – argh!” 

“Enough,” a second voice that Draco recognised with awful certainty as Theo Nott’s terrifying Father. The crack of two more spells sounded out and two thuds of two bodies. “Search the House. Carefully.”

Draco’s robes were stuck to his back with sweat and his forehead throbbed where he had hit the support beam. It felt like there wasn’t enough air in here. There were a series of bangs and the sound of a fist against the wall moving closer and closer to where he was. 

“Potter’s not going to be here, Nott. If he was we’d have been challenged by now.”

“Our orders were clear. Search the House.”

They were outside the spot where he was hiding. If he so much as breathed too loudly they were going to hear him. Another thump, this time six inches from his face. 

“This bit’s hollow. Better check. Reducto.” The wall crumbled. Fear had frozen Draco’s voice and he gaped wordlessly at the two figures dressed in the dark cloaks and masks of Death Eaters. One of them brandished their wand and Draco flinched, closing his eyes expecting the green flash any second. Light did flash across his eyelids but it was the pale white of Lumos. “There’s nothing here. We should return, the others may have had more success.”

The charms had held. 

He made himself wait a whole count of a hundred before he dared to move, not trusting them to have left so easily. There wasn’t a sound in the whole house when he finally willed himself into movement. He twisted and scraped his way out of the confined space and with his wand held ready made his way down the stairs.

He hadn’t heard the Morsmordre but he still dreaded to think what he would find.

Aunt Andromeda was lying sprawled like a puppet with her strings cut but her colour was good and he could feel a pulse at her throat, remembering Ted’s lessons he checked her over carefully and could find no blood and no bones broken. Only then did he cast the reviving spell and move on to his Uncle.

Ted Tonks had fared worse than his wife, most likely because he was Muggleborn. One arm, his wand arm by the looks of it, looked twisted and malformed. He was conscious but in the full body bind, relief at the sight of Draco mingled with the obvious pain in his eyes. Draco laid him down carefully and applied a numbing spell to the arm below the elbow before reversing the bind.

“Andromeda?” Ted gasped. 

“She’s okay,” Draco said quickly, “tell me what you need for this.”

“It’s a Comminutare Curse,” Ted made no attempt to move. “I haven’t had to heal these since the last war. The Counter-Curse is – is in Egberts Anthology.”

Draco nodded. “And for pain?”

“Poppy and Willowbark. My bag…give me only half. I’ll need to guide you.”

With someone else to focus on Draco found his own nervous energy dissipating. He summoned the potions bag and, rather than risk wasting time with heating water, found for the first time he successfully filled a flask with the Aguamenti charm. 

“Ted?” Aunt Andromeda was up on her feet again and looking shaken but otherwise unhurt. “Oh your arm, those monsters…”

“I’m fine, Dromeda, Draco is helping me. Go and re-do the charms, we’ll need warning if they come back.”

Andromeda nodded and disappeared. Draco held up the flask and carefully poured the measured dried solution into it. Ted watched him and nodded satisfied. “I’ll need you to help me to drink it.”

Draco supported him carefully, keeping an eye on the limb with its twisted appearance. The ends of the fingers were an unhealthy blue. “I think the blood supply is affected.”

“Very good,” Ted sighed in relief as the potion took hold. “Told you you’d make a good healer. Now the Anthology and quickly – the arm will be fine if we can undo the damage.”

The house was in disarray with books and possessions strewn everywhere as if Harry Potter might have been hiding in Aunt Andromeda’s kitchen draws or his Uncle’s bookshelves. He summoned the correct book and used the seeking charm to find the passage he needed.

“I’ve got it.” Draco scanned the page nervously. “This is hard magic.”

“Don’t let doubt in to your mind.” Ted was taking deep slow breaths, the potion obviously wasn’t covering nearly enough of the agony. “The bones of the forearm are like this,” he pointed to the diagram next to the description of the counter-curse. “Hold that image in your mind and then look here at the arm, see how – how the radius and ulna have been juxtaposed.”

Draco looked down at the mess of bone and blood and saw the two white splinters of bone lying at strange angles across each other. By all rights he should have felt like vomiting right now but instead he forced himself to focus and nodded. “Yes.”

“You need to concentrate on those two ends and imagine then untwisting, straightening. Picture the diagram, that is what you want as your end result. Do you understand?”

Draco nodded again, staring in concentration at the picture on the page. 

“Good,” Ted looked white now. “I know you can do it. Once it’s done prepare more of the potion, I’d like a full dose once I come around again, and brew up some Honey and Murtlap for the Septic Prophylaxis.”

“C-come around?” Draco stuttered. “What do…” he shook his head and forced himself to re-focus. “Okay, are you ready.” Ted nodded and gave a grim smile.

Draco cleared his mind, pictured the bones untwisting and pointed his wand at the wound. “Reficio.”

The bones crunched with a stomach-churning gristly sound as they reshaped themselves. Draco barely caught Ted’s head as his Uncle fainted dead away again. He held the Counter-curse until the sound stopped and then re-applied the numbing spell before turning his attention back to the potions his Uncle had ordered.

*

Later that evening Tonks and Lupin arrived to check on the three of them and found Ted, Andromeda and Draco shaken but very much alive sitting at the kitchen table. Draco was forcing himself to eat the rack of ribs Aunt Andromeda had prepared and trying not think too much about bones poking out of flesh.

It was gratifying though to see Ted able to use his arm and know that he had had a role in doing it.

“Couldn’t have asked for a better application,” Ted was telling Tonks, “honestly, if Draco hadn’t been here, we might still have been lying on the floor waiting for rescue. I could have lost the arm.”

“I’m so sorry I put you in danger, Dad.” Tonks said softly. “They wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t involved in all this.”

“Nonsense,” Aunt Andromeda interrupted, “we are proud of you, darling. You are doing a brave and wonderful thing.”

“The Ministry is gone,” Tonks said sombrely, drawing a little closer to Lupin. “It’s in His hands. We’re all going to have to be more careful.”

“They will come back.” Draco said quietly. “They hate Muggleborns and they hate blood traitors even more. You – well all three of us - are exactly that. We should find a way to leave.”

“I am not leaving this house.” Aunt Andromeda said immediately. “They wouldn’t dare force me out.”

“Mr Malfoy does have a point, Andromeda,” Remus cut in. “The Order might be able to help effect going into hiding. It would mean leaving here though, perhaps hiding amongst the Muggles.”

“We should consider it,” Ted agreed. “If it comes to it.”

“I’m going to London in the morning.” Draco said, surprising himself a little to hear it outloud. “I’m going to go straight to the Embassy and ask for asylum.” He looked between his Aunt and Uncle. “I can ask for you as well if you’d like.”

“It won’t be possible,” Lupin shook his head. “Trying to leave the country now would be foolish in the extreme. You’d be better off going via Heathrow than by our usual international methods.”

Draco was spared having to ask what or where Heathrow was by his Aunt’s scoffing laugh. “We are not travelling in those Muggle contraptions.” Aunt Andromeda shivered. “Not a levitation charm to be found anywhere.”

“I’m going to London,” he repeated. “I have to try.”

*

He dressed, at Ted’s insistence, like a real Muggle teenager and barely recognised himself in the mirror. T-shirts he could understand but why anyone would wear jeans so long and baggy that they dragged on the ground he could not fathom. The shoes were far more comfortable than they looked and he felt a bit like he was walking on clouds.

Tonks gave a great snort of laughter when he appeared downstairs. “Well, no one’s going to recognise you for what you are.” She waved her wand over his hair and nodded. “There, now you look completely ordinary. Even did your eyebrows to match.”

“I’ve extended your backpack,” Aunt Andromeda smiled at him, fussing and smoothing down his now mousy brown hair. “It’s got three days-worth of food, a few changes of robes and enough gold to get you a start if you can get to New York.”

“If I make it then I will try to bring you over too…” Draco looked between his Aunt and Uncle. “I don’t know how to thank you for this past month.”

“It’s been wonderful getting to know you, Draco,” his Aunt looked like she was about to cry. “I only wish you didn’t have to go.”

Ted gave his Draco’s hand a firm shake. “Got you a little going away present.” He handed Draco a small cardboard box wrapped in plain brown paper. “Something to remember us by. Open it when you get to America.”

“This won’t be the last time we see each other,” Draco said with as much conviction as he could. “At least, I’ll try to make sure it isn’t. Well, goodbye then.”

He had his wand ready and the moment the house wavered out of view behind the charms he twisted on the spot and reappeared in the shade of the Oak Trees lining Grosvenor Square. The MACUSA Embassy was attached to the main United States Embassy and was accessible if one presented oneself to the bust of Ben Franklin outside what, to Muggle eyes at least, appeared to be a service entrance.

“Excuse me, Mr Franklin.“I’ve come to speak to the Ambassador. I’ve got an urgent request.”

The bust gave a great sniff and frowned at him. “Are you a Citizen or Resident of the United States?”

“No…” Draco said slowly, “but I think he’d be interested to listen to what I have to say.”

“The Ambassador is busy,” Franklin’s bust declared with an air of finality. “And the Embassy is for Citizens and Residents of the United States. Not for any riff-raff spawn of No-Majs who find themselves on the wrong side of Britain’s Government. We cannot help you.”

“Spawn of…” Draco began heatedly. “Now, look here, you’ve got a duty under International Wizarding Law to-”

“Don’t you ‘look here’ me, boy.” The bust snapped. “I wrote most of those laws. You think you’re the first one to try this trick on me? The Magical Congress of the United States has a good relationship with the Ministry of Magic, we will not jeopardise that for a few unfortunates. Perhaps you could try Bulgaria. I hear they’ll take anyone.”

“I want to claim asylum.” Draco pleaded. “I have to get out the country.”

“Try the Bulgarians.” The bust said once again and then froze back into its normal stony self.

A Muggle dressed in what looked like a very official uniform was marching across the pavement towards him. “Can I help you, young man?”

“No,” Draco sighed defeatedly. “No, I’ll be going now.” He had gone a few paces back down the street when the same man called out.

“Wait!” 

Draco turned curiously, catching almost too late the strangely vacant expression on the man’s face. He had his wand out just in time to cast a shield charm and sent a prayer of thanks to any god who was listening for the practice Lupin had made him put in. The stunner rebounded and hit the Muggle who collapsed senseless to the floor. Other Muggles began running towards the location, shouting and yelling.   
Another spell fizzed past his left shoulder. How had he been so stupid as to not realise the entrance would be being watched. They wouldn’t know it was him, not yet, but open use of magic would bring the Ministry here in seconds. He had to get out of here. 

He turned on the spot, thinking frantically of the first safe place to come to mind and found himself in the middle of Kings Cross station. He found a quiet corner and cast the strongest disillusionment charms he could and waited for the shaking to stop and to make sure he wasn’t followed before disapparating again and finding his way back through Falmouth to his Aunt and Uncle’s Farm.


	9. Chapter 9

Aunt Andromeda dropped the tea tray she had been carrying when she saw him appear in the doorway. “Oh, my goodness, what are you doing back here?”

“They…” Draco’s voice shook and he paused and tried again, “they wouldn’t even let me in the door.”

“What?” She drew herself up and he could see his own initial indignation in her expression. “But – surely they could have given you chance to plead your case. Don’t they know who you are?”

“I don’t think who I am would have helped at all. All they said was that they wanted good relations with the new government and I’m not really popular there, am I?” Draco threw his bag down and slumped into a chair. “The entrance was being watched. Someone tried to stun me but I got away.”

“Death Eaters?”

“I don’t think so, at least they just seemed like they were after anyone who was trying to get out.”

Andromeda gave a short nod. “Well, that answers that question then. You and Ted will have to stay.”

No one seemed all that surprised that he hadn’t made it away. He caught Lupin giving him a sympathetic look over supper that evening and made sure to give his undiverted attention to his potatoes until the other man looked away.

“I don’t see why they don’t let them go,” Tonks said quietly, “the Muggleborns I mean. If they want to have a Pureblood society then why not just let them leave.”

“It’s not about that though.” Draco felt his skin heat as all four of the adults turned to stare at him. “For the Dark Lord it’s about power. There are Half-blooded Death Eaters, everyone inside His circle knows that but no one talks about it. They want something for people to hate and fear apart from themselves and it’s hard to fear something if you stamp it out.”

“Why though?” Tonks threw up her hands in exasperation. “I mean, I know you just said that but why do they think they can get people to hate Muggleborns?”

“Because they want to pollute our culture and breed the magic out of us.” Draco said automatically. 

That had been one of his Dad’s favourite lectures each and every time Draco had protested about wanting to do something, anything, in any way connected with Muggles or Muggleborns. He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped being curious about Muggleborns and started actively fearing them. Of course, he’d never had the chance to learn better until very recently. He’d never even met a Muggleborn until his first day at Hogwarts and then in Slytherin, well there hadn’t been a Muggleborn Slytherin since Arthur Gauntlet in the 17th Century, he’d hardly had much of a chance there. 

“But that’s absolute rubbish!” Tonks protested. “Look at Dad, I mean how could Dad possibly be a threat to Wizarding culture and if he is then why am I somehow not?”

“I’m not saying it’s right.” Draco said heatedly. “I’m just telling you how it is for us…for them.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Draco’s right,” his Aunt said, looking round. “That is what they think, that is how I used to think. I was raised to believe that my heritage made me superior to even my fellow Witches and Wizards. It’s an intoxicating thing to believe about oneself.”

“And then I came along, swept you off your feet and caused a scandal across three pages of the Prophet,” Ted said jovially. 

Tonks gave her Dad a fond smile. “I’m pretty sure it was only half a page.”

Ted chuckled. “Perhaps one and a half pages? Do you remember ‘Dromeda?”

Draco hoped that one day he would be as good as his Uncle was at breaking the tension in a room and making people laugh. He left the others and took the bucket of scraps out to feed Napoleon and Bonaparte, the two pigs and check the water in the troughs for the horses. No chickens chased him today, Aunt Andromeda must have scattered the grain earlier. It would be nice to be a chicken, he thought idly, having you only worry being how to hide an egg and whether you’d find a nice worm that day. 

Ted emerged from the house making his usual post supper visit to the shed. 

“Are you coming down, Draco?” 

Draco followed after him, taking his usual seat on the corner of the table to watch Ted work. He picked up a piece of track and fidgeted idly with the points mechanism, intrigued by the elegant simplicity of the design. “I don’t think I believe that stuff anymore.”

Ted’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “About Muggleborns being out to murder you all and take your rights away?”

Draco nodded. “It sounds so stupid when you say it like that, and Tonks – Dora – she’s right, why are half-bloods allowed when some of them have Muggle parents.”

“Have you ever talked to a Muggle?”

“Not exactly,” Draco pulled a face, thinking of the Dursleys. “And you’re the first Muggleborn who I’ve ever really had a conversation with.” 

Ted raised his eyebrows but didn’t look too surprised by this. “Shame we don’t have more time to show you a bit of real Muggle culture. I think you’d enjoy it.”

Something in Ted’s tone made Draco frown. “More time?” He watched as his Uncle pulled a letter from an old tin full of diagrams. 

“It’s an Invitation to submit my information to the Muggle-Born Registration Committee. I got it from the Ministry today.”

Draco’s mouth went dry. “Are you going to do it?”

“No.” Ted sounded tired now and a little bitter. “I didn’t think this would happen as quickly as it has. I’m going to talk to Dromeda and Dora first but – I think I’m going to go on the run before they send anyone else round to threaten my Wife and Daughter.”

“You could hide. I hid the first time.”

Even as he said it Draco knew that this was not a viable long term solution. That was why he’d wanted to leave the country. Anywhere he went, any family that sheltered him ran the risk of what happened to his Aunt and Uncle a few days ago happening to them. If Ted became an enemy of the regime in the way Draco himself was then they’d never really be safe and one slip up would mean that his Aunt and Cousin could face torture and persecution. 

“You wanted to know if I’ll come too.” He finished defeatedly. “When?”

Ted nodded. “When I’ve convinced Dromeda that it’s the best way. She won’t like it. Blood status has marred her whole life in one way or another.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco mumbled. “I wish I’d never got involved in any of this. If I hadn’t – last year – maybe he’d have taken longer to get more powerful again.”

Ted sighed and rubbed a tired hand across his eyes. “He’d still have got there eventually, son. That’s how these things go. But for what it’s worth I appreciate the apology. So, what do you say?”

Draco gave a sharp nod. “I don’t want Aunt Andromeda hurt on my account.” He paused, wondering whether the next thing he wanted to say was wise or not and then decided he might as well say it anyway. “And thank you for asking me instead of telling me.”

“Everyone needs the chance to make good choices.” Ted smiled. “I meant to ask by the way, did you open your parcel.”

For a minute Draco had no idea what Ted was talking about and then he remembered the brown paper package. “It’s in my room. I never got the chance.”

“Go and take a look now.” Ted put down the model house he’d been painting. “I need to talk to Andromeda anyway.”

Draco made his way back up to the house behind Ted wanting to drag out every last second of a normal life he could before they lost the steady rhythm of life here that he’d come to enjoy. 

He left his Aunt and Uncle to talk and made his way upstairs to rummage in the bag and pull of the small package. He opened it carefully to find a small yellow and black model train inside. It was Helga’s Hope, the train he’d been so taken by on the first day he’d seen the model trainset. Underneath the train was a folded square of parchment.

To Draco, I hope that this will represent the first of many happy memories. With warmest good wishes, Uncle Ted.

He was glad that no one had seen him open the package and witnessed Draco Malfoy, feared scourge of Slytherin, weep over a toy train. It was the kindest thing that anyone had ever done for him and that made him feel both desperately sad and deeply grateful.

Draco sat quietly for a few minutes, holding the small model in his hands, until he felt he had control of himself again. He was going to pay Ted Tonks back for the faith he’d shown in him. 

He couldn’t sleep at first, listening to the low buzz of voices just the other side of the wall. He didn’t know what to expect beyond the cold silences and pointed looks of his childhood whenever his parents had disagreed with one another. What if Aunt Andromeda blamed him for Ted deciding to leave? No, that was a stupid thought. He turned over again for what felt like the fiftieth time and buried his head under his pillow. Eventually the voices quieted and he must have fallen asleep because the early dawn light seeping in through his open curtains woke him several hours later.

Aunt Andromeda had red rimmed eyes but she smiled at him when she knocked on his door and brought him a cup of tea.

“I thought you’d worry,” she said with a faint smile. “I know I would have done at your age but it’s alright, Ted and I have talked things through. I want you both to stay of course but – but with things as they are.” She trailed off uncomfortably and squeezed his shoulder. “Ted’s saying goodbye to Dora before he goes.”

It actually took the better part of the day for them to be ready to leave once and for all. Ted seemed to have an endless stream of maps, gadgets and books that he packed neatly into an expanded knapsack. Aunt Andromeda had fussed and worried about food and supplied them with an everlasting loaf that the promised faithfully would last at least a month. Draco had been so nervous about the prospect of leaving that he hadn’t even found energy for a smart-mouthed quip about that.

Draco felt strange saying goodbye again so soon after his last one and hung back a little feeling self-conscious as Ted embraced his family. Aunt Andromeda gave him another of her squeezing hugs in spite of this and fiercely urged him to keep safe and, if they got chance, to help Ted get out of the country with him. 

“Alright, son.” Ted said eventually. “I think it’s time.”

They picked up their two small rucksacks and turned on the spot, reappearing in a small clearing.

“Northern Scotland,” Ted commented, looking around. “Can you put up the tent whilst I do the charms. There shouldn’t be any Muggles around here but I’d rather not risk it.”

Draco pulled out the tent from Ted’s rucksack and stared at it. This shouldn’t be complicated. He pointed his wand and muttered ‘Erecto’ but the pack just shuffled a bit. His wand could obviously could sense he wasn’t confident. The last time he’d even been anything like Camping at the world cup he’d arrived and the site was already prepared for them. His Dad had bought a few of his favourite Peacocks along, something that Blaise had never quite let Draco live down. 

He tried the spell again and this time the tent assembled itself but it had a dangerously lopsided look to it. He tried to open the tent flap but found that it jammed. At that moment Ted came back and with a flick of his wand fixed the sagging side of the tent and they stepped inside.

“It’s a bit basic,” Ted said briskly, but it’ll keep us warm and dry. 

On the inside the tent looked more like a squat wooden hut with a firepit in the centre and two beds against opposite walls. 

Basic wasn’t the word Draco would have used. He’d have preferred a term like primitive or dingy. But this was what he had to do and if it was between this and dying at the Dark Lord’s hand then he’d take this option. All the same though.

“I thought you’d have had something a bit more…” Draco trailed off trying to not sound like he was implying exactly what he was implying. “A bit more functional.”

“From where?” Ted shrugged. “I would have if I could but there wasn’t a lot of time. We’ll make the best of it.”

They made a fire outside as the sun went down and Ted cut a few slices off the end of the everlasting Loaf, tossing one at Draco who caught it and gave him a curious look. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Toast it. Like this, see…” Ted gave a swish and flick of his wand and the bread floated sedately over the fire and rotated, browning nicely.

Draco mirrored the wand-work and then yelped in surprise as his bread dropped too low into the fire, turned black and caught fire. 

“I’ll give you points for style at least.” Ted remarked and summoned his own slice, buttering it generously and passing int to Draco. “Have you never toasted bread over a fire before?”

“We’ve got, well I had House Elves,” Draco mumbled, feeling ashamed without really knowing why. “It’s stuff for them to do.”

“No better time to learn,” Ted said peaceably, handing Draco a fresh slice of bread, “now try a little higher than right in the flame. Let’s save Dromeda’s meals for when really need them, hmm?””

His next effort wasn’t quite as good as Ted’s and still had some blackened edges where he’d let it drop low but Ted ate it without complaint. Draco held his hands out to the fire, feeling the heat fight the chill of the night air and remembering how he and Pansy used to curl up by the fire late into the evening. Pansy had kept on at him to pick names for the children they’d eventually have.

Part of him missed the certainty of the life he’d had planned out before the Dark Lord had come to wipe it all away. In two weeks-time Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and all the rest of his friends would be getting back on the train and going back to lives of safety and comfort. He could have had all of that and more. Now look at him, no gold, no family name to speak of and living in a hut.

“I’d like to teach you some more healing,” Ted said suddenly into the silence. “You seem to have a talent for it and I’m certain that, before this is over, we’re going to need all the Healers we can get.”

It was a grim assessment but Draco knew it to be true. “Alright,” he nodded. “When can we start?”

Ted disappeared inside the tent and came out with a book. “Read the first chapter tonight and we’ll start on common curses and counter-curses tomorrow.”  
Draco took the book and opened it eagerly. No gold, no family name, living in a hut but still alive and still with a chance to fight back in his own way. He would take that.


	10. Chapter 10

The first night in the hut was cold and miserable. The second night he decided to keep all of his clothes on and pile extra wood onto the fire. He and Ted both seemed to be in better spirits after that and so they kept it up. Draco thought he knew what manual work was after taking up helping Aunt Andromeda with the animals and the garden back in Falmouth but camping was a whole new education.

Over the next several weeks he learned from bitter experience what mushrooms could and could not be eaten and found that hunger sharpened his ability with a summoning charm to a significant degree. They made Aunt Andromeda’s meals a weekly treat and in between that it was blackberries, apples, mushrooms and lots of trout and salmon. August was sliding by around them and the nip of Autumn was in the air. His arm burned with an almost monotonous regularity each evening, whatever the Dark Lord’s plans were they were now well underway. 

He studied to take his mind of being hungry and found something quite satisfying in being able to follow more and more of what Ted described to him. No one came looking for them and they made sure to re-cast the charms and test them regularly. More importantly there was no news from home for Ted which meant that, at least for now, Tonks and Aunt Andromeda were safe.

One morning one day in the third week of their self-imposed exile Draco had gone foraging for some tree-nuts to add to their meager diet. He was most of the way up an old sweet chestnut tree trying to fill a bag with them for later when he had dropped one and heard a strange barking hissing sound. He climbed down and was looking around for the source of the noise when the Badger seemed to come from nowhere.

“What the hell!” He exclaimed, feeling blood trickle down his calf from the slash of claws. The bag of chestnuts went rolling down the slope disappearing into a pile of falling leaves. He took a step back, lost his balance and fell hard feeling something snap in his ankle. The badger rushed at him again and sank its teeth into the same ankle. Draco went for his wand, realised with a jolt that it wasn’t there and then spotted it some eight feet away from him further down the bank. He yelled and kicked out, catching the badger in the side which finally seemed to deter it and it turned and hurried away into the undergrowth.

“A fucking badger?” He muttered to himself, sitting up and maneuvering himself to examine the ankle. “That’s the last time I give Hufflepuff any grief.” 

“Are you alright there, boy?” A voice floated down the bank towards him followed by a concerned face framed with a shock of wild white hair. “I heard someone cry out.”

It was a Muggle. How had he managed to find the only Muggle in this entire valley.

“I’m fine thank you,” he called back, “just fine. Carry on.”

“You don’t look fine.” The Muggle climbed down the bank towards him and looked him over critically. “Far from it in fact. I’m Jack, what’s your name?”

“Harry,” Draco said, using the first Muggle name he could think of. 

“Well Harry,” said Jack, “do you have a mobile on you?”

“A mobile what?” Draco asked, feeling both panicked and exasperated. 

“No problem. We can use mine.” Jack pulled out a small black piece of metal and tapped it with his finger making it buzz and light up. “Let’s see if you can walk, we can call in the Air Ambulance if we need to, we’re pretty far out at the moment. Where’s your pack?”

“At my camp,” Draco stretched out his ankle a little and winced. “It’s not far. Can you just grab my – err that piece of wood there – and help me up.”

The Muggle handed him his wand; Draco put it back in the pocket of his robes and let himself be helped up. He wobbled uncertainly on his one leg for a moment, debating if he could get away with casting a charm to help ease the pain before deciding he couldn’t risk it. 

“Don’t want to mess with Badgers,” Jack remarked, letting Draco lean against him as the worked their way back up the bank and slowly towards camp. “They’re nasty creatures when they feel threatened. What are you doing out here anyway? This is the middle of nowhere. Mine’s the only house for miles and miles.”

“My Uncle and I are camping,” Draco said vaguely. He felt the charms break as he led Jack through them and hoped that Ted wouldn’t be too far away.

“You’re the second young lad I’ve seen in these parts.” Jack said offhandedly, “I thought maybe you were camping with him. Some sort of Duke of Edinburgh thing is it?”

Someone else was in the forest? “Did they say what their name was?” Draco asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“No, seemed a bit skittish of me if I’m honest. I promise you I’m no harm to anyone. Ah and you must be Harry’s Uncle.”

The last part of the sentence was addressed to Ted who, like Draco, must have been alerted when the charms fell and had come to investigate. 

“I am.” Ted said, his manner friendly but guarded. “Seems he got himself into a spot of bother. Thank you for helping out but we’ll be quite alright now.”

“Will you need me to call anyone?” Jack persisted. Draco caught the quick flick of a wand and saw the look of vague confusion fog Jack’s features. “I suppose I’d better be getting back,” he said in the manner of a person talking to himself, “Tiddles will need feeding about now.”

Draco breathed out slowly and threw Ted an apologetic look.

“I suppose we’re lucky we lasted this long.” Ted sighed. “Well, want to try out your studies? This is a good chance.”

Draco pulled out his wand, with one tap, his bones glowed visible through the muscle and skin, they looked fine with none of the supposed tell-tale signs of fracture. That meant either a strain or sprain and those he could fix. He muttered the incantation and breathed in relief as the pain lessened. That did make Ted smile but it didn’t get him out of explaining and then demonstrating how he’d treat bruising and inflammation.

“You’re doing well,” Ted remarked after he’d checked the work. “When this is done you should try for St Mungo’s.”

If it’s ever done, Draco thought to himself. Out loud he decided to share the one piece of interesting news he’d got from the Muggle. “I think there’s another Wizard in the forest. The Muggle said he’d seen someone, a boy.”

Ted frowned, “might be a Hogwarts student, someone underage who can’t go back.”

Draco fell quiet at that. He’d never even thought about all those students. After a while another, darker thought struck him. “What do you think will happen to the Muggleborn first years?”

“Merlin knows.” Ted looked tired and drawn at the thought. “I hope the Order have something arranged to help them because otherwise I don’t want to contemplate it.”

Neither of them spoke much that evening.

*  
Draco didn’t so much find the other Wizard as trip over him. First badgers and now this, he thought grumpily to himself as he picked himself up and found a very angry young man dressed in Gryffindor school robes pointing a wand at his heart. Draco vaguely recognised him as the boy Ginny Weasley had dated. Thomas, but what was his first name; Darren or something?

“I’m on your side.” Draco started to say.

“Don’t make me laugh.” Thomas snarled. “We all know Snape took you from the school after you let the Death Eaters in. Harry said you were supposed to have killed Dumbledore.”

“Well I didn’t.” Draco snapped back. “I couldn’t and if He finds me He’ll murder me just like He murdered my Dad and He’ll probably take longer over it than He will with you.”

Thomas gave him a hard, flat look. “So, you’re hiding rather than fighting. Always knew you were a coward, Malfoy.”

“You’re hiding too.” Draco pointed out.

“Jumped the train.” Thomas shrugged, “it got raided by Death Eaters. I’m Muggleborn, I wasn’t about to stick around for them to work that out.”

Draco looked around the forest clearing. “Where’s your stuff?” 

“By now, probably back at Kings Cross.” 

“You’ve been out here all night? You must be freezing.” Draco looked at the other boy, debating if he should risk revealing the campsite. “Look I’m with my Uncle, come back with me and we can give you some food or something.”

“Your Uncle?” Thomas scoffed. “Which Death Eater would that be?”

“Fine.” Draco snapped. “Freeze to death. I don’t care.” He turned on his heel and stomped away through the leaves.

“Wait,” the boy called after him. “Look I’m sorry. I’m just – I’m scared okay.”

“We’re all scared.” Draco said shortly, slowing his pace just enough to let Thomas catch up. “Maybe try not threatening the next person who offers to help you.”

The boy frowned. “Alright, fair call. Start again then? I’m Dean, Dean Thomas.”

Draco nodded. “Dean. Okay then, well you already know who I am. Why did you get on the train?”

“Thought Hogwarts might be the safest place,” Dean shrugged. “DIdn’t want my parents getting a visit from old Darth Voldy.”

Draco looked at him blankly. “Don’t use the name. It’s got a magical trace on it.”

They hadn’t been far from the campsite and it was lucky because it had just begun to rain as they arrived. Dean looked around the tidy little camp with a low whistle of appreciation. “How long have you been out here?”

“A couple of weeks I think. Uncle Ted,” he called, “I found the boy the Muggle saw.”

Dean wolfed down the berries and roasted salmon as if he hadn’t eaten for a week rather than just overnight. Once he had warmed up by the fire and been properly introduced to Ted some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to drop away and he looked at Draco with less open suspicion. 

Even so it wasn’t long before Dean asked him the question he’d hoped not to have to answer quite so soon.

“So, you really have the Mark?” 

Draco rolled up his left sleeve and watched Dean physically recoil. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you want that…that thing on you?”

Potter had asked him that back before he’d really begun to feel the true consequences of the choices he’d made. He looked into the flames, thinking of how proud his Aunt Bellatrix had seemed, how afraid his Mother was and how determined he had been to prove the worth of his name and his blood. 

“I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought it was the right choice to make.”

“But he’s a violent, murdering psychopath!” Dean burst out, drawing a bitter chuckle from Ted. Draco had another strange moment of dislocation that he was here even having this conversation, with two Muggleborn Wizards, at all.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I know that now. Back then I – I don’t know what I thought.”

“I’ve seen you change.” Ted cut in. “Neither of you will believe an old man when I say this but I’m very glad no one’s ever judged me by my decisions at sixteen. I was an idiot back then.”

Dean crossed his arms. “I still think you should know it’s wrong to murder people because of their ancestry.” 

“What do you want me to do?” Draco retorted. “Take a time turner back and slap myself?”

“Might be a start.” Dean shrugged. “I guess you’re right though, you can’t take it back.”

“I’m going to work out how to add some sleeping space for you, Dean.” Ted stood up and rubbed his hands in the warm air over the fire. “Try not to hex one another whilst I’m gone?”

Dean and Draco exchanged looks of cautious acceptance and fell quiet again as Ted disappeared inside the hut.

“Do you think the Death Eaters will go after my Mum and Step-Dad?” Dean asked eventually. “Since I ran?”

Draco paused, thinking and then shook his head. “Probably not. You’re not worth it to them. Do the Muggles you live with know about our world?”

“Not much, I try not to tell them stuff that would worry them, especially after Seamus’s Mum didn’t let him come back this year. They tell people I got a scholarship to some posh school up North. All Mum’s relatives think I’m a genius.”

Draco absorbed this information slowly. “So – they’re not going to know you’re here and not at school?”

Dean nodded grimly. “I’ll phone them next chance I get. Tell them I’m okay and not to expect me back for Christmas. There might be a phone box in the Village.”

“Ah, yes.” Draco supplied, taking his best guess and trying to avoid showing he had no idea what Dean was talking about. “Like a music record. I suppose we could use Muggle post to send the recording.”

“Err,” Dean looked like he was trying not to laugh. “I think you’re thinking about a Gramophone. A phone – telephone - is a sort of technology you can use to speak to someone far away. It’s much faster than Owl Post.”

“Owl Post is better.” Draco said stubbornly. “It’s more…traditional.”

“Yeah because everyone loves it when a Tawny Owl shits in their cornflakes,” Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Honestly, Seamus was just as bad he…” Dean’s voice faltered a little. “He used to give me all sorts of shit for anything Muggle.”

“Finnegan? The Irish kid?”

“Yeah, he’s my best mate. Half-blood so, you know maybe he’ll be okay.” Dean looked down studying his hands and then seemed to decide he’d had enough of reminiscing. “You’re listed as missing in the Prophet. They’re making out that Order of the Phoenix have you as a hostage.”

It was Draco’s turn to snort at that. “I wish. They’d probably have more to eat than fish and half ripe blackberries.”

“Isn’t your Uncle with the Order, didn’t think many Purebloods went in for that?”

“No,” Draco glanced over towards the Hut. “He’s my Uncle by marriage, Muggleborn like you. His wife is my Mum’s sister. I don’t actually know much about the Order at all.” He finished, deciding that even if Dean was exactly what he appeared to be it wouldn’t pay to reveal any more information than he needed to.

Dean looked suddenly serious. “Do you think we should try to find them and help fight?”

“Fight?” Draco gave a scoffing laugh. “Us? Are you joking? Aunt Bellatrix would flay the skin from your body and make you watch.”

“I’m doing N.E.W.T in Defence against the Dark Arts.” Dean said defensively. “I can hold my own.”

Ted reappeared at that moment with the everlasting Loaf and what looked like real butter. He must have raided their supplies of Andromeda’s food. “Draco is right. You should try and stay out of the fighting. You’re both barely of age.”

“But I am of age.” Dean persisted. “And that means I can choose to try and fight them.”

“There’s more than one way to fight back against this kind of evil, son.” Ted said kindly, handing Dean the first piece of toast. “Walking up to a Death Eater and challenging them to a duel isn’t courage it’s stupidity. What we need to do is stick together and stay alive long enough that we can help when the time comes for us to be of use.”

“What about Harry?” Dean said, sounding less insistent than he had a few moments before. “Harry wasn’t even sixteen when he fought You-Know-Who for the first time. He’s out there now trying to destroy Him.”  
“From what I know.” Ted sighed. “Harry Potter doesn’t have much of a choice. You do.”

“Okay, okay…” Dean looked like a person who was rather glad to have been talked out of a foolish course of action. 

Draco gave Dean a quick smile and saw it returned, sparking a small warmth inside him that had nothing to do with the fire. It had been lonely with just older adults for company these past few months. It was good to see someone from school, even if Dean was a Gryffindor and a Muggleborn. 

The new company seemed to cheer up Ted as well and Draco spent an evening in a state of amused bafflement as the two Muggleborns swapped tales of growing up and discovering the magical world.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco found to his surprise that he quite liked Dean Thomas. The other boy appreciated his Quidditch, even if he was unfortunate enough to support Puddlemere United, and was quite willing to give Draco as good as he got when it came to trading jibes over Draco’s own team, the Arrows. It was nice to have someone else to practice spells with as well and Dean, who was a lot better at Defensive Spells thanks to the club that Potter had started, actually taught him a lot although Draco was careful never to ask about the Patronus Charm.

Dean inserted himself seamlessly into the routine of their days and wasn’t shy of helping out even with the jobs that Draco still avoided as much as he could. Slowly the camp stopped feeling like a dingy trap and started to feel more like a home, however much of a strange one. 

They were sat around the fire one evening several weeks later; the three of them huddled close together for warmth with Ted and Draco locked in a battle for final victory at Chess whilst Dean absorbed himself in sketching. It felt almost domestic. 

Draco made a sound of frustrations when he realised that he’d managed to claw defeat from the jaws of certain victory, again. Dean chuckled along with Ted for a few moments and then turned around his pad to show Draco and Ted an artistic take on the Quidditch logos of the British and Irish league. Dean had enchanted the logo of his own team, Puddlemere, to flash neon bright.

“What do you think? I improved your one.”

“Why did you even pick Puddlemere?” Draco asked, laughing as he realised that the Arrow for his own team’s logo kept crashing into the border of its own shield and crumpling up. It was a good bit of magic.

Dean pulled a face, thinking. “Well, I guess if you squint it sort of looks like the West Ham Logo, you know.”

“That’s your Muggle team, right? Football?” He wasn’t surprised to see Dean nod enthusiastically. That was the only answer since, apart from Quidditch and his Xbox, Dean talked about nothing else apart from West Ham.

“Yeah, Man.” Dean smiled to himself. “West Ham till I die. They’re supposed to be playing soon. I wonder if we could watch it.”

“Tell him it’s a ridiculous idea, Uncle Ted.” Draco said automatically. 

“Nah,” Dean nudged him. “I want to get you to see a game, then you’d get what I’m talking about. Come on, we should ask.”

Ted agreed that it was a ridiculous idea but decided that since no one had disturbed their camp since they had found and Confunded that Muggle they could perhaps risk it. Dean said they needed somewhere with sky, whatever that meant, and Draco decided to leave that up to him. Uncle Ted volunteered to stay behind.

On the night that West Ham were due to play they apparated to the edge of the village and cautiously made their way to the Muggle dwelling they had picked out. Uncle Ted had dealt with the Muggles, sending them off with a sudden and intense desire to spend the weekend away in Blackpool.

Draco settled himself awkwardly on the cream sofa, acutely aware that he would probably leave smudges on it, and looked around. Muggle Houses were small boxy things, all clean lines and oddly still compared to the busyness of a magical household.

Dean picked up the thick plastic wand and pressed a button, making the screen flick and change. The screen soon showed a green pitch and men running around in shorts and brightly coloured tops.   
Draco studied the images and the flow of play. “How are they supposed to stop a ball with a goal that big? Surely they’ll just…”

Dean made an impatient gesture. “Shh…just watch.”

“Which one is West Ham? Red and blue?”

“Claret, but yes. The ones in Red are Liverpool.”

The game began and Dean was quickly absorbed. Draco had absolutely no idea what he was watching. He supposed this must be how girls felt watching Quidditch. Still he had to admire the skill of the Muggles, to be able to control a ball like that just with your feet was pretty impressive. One of the West Ham players but the ball into the netted goal and the roar of the crowd reminded Draco of the world cup. Dean had jumped to his feet looking excited and animated, all of the strain of the last few months gone in a few glorious seconds. 

Football was different and not in an entirely bad way, Draco decided. Quidditch had a lot more to watch but there was something intricate and brutal about the battle for one ball.

When after 45 minutes the play stopped, he turned to Dean in confusion. “What happens now? It is done already?”

“Half-time, mate. They’ll be back on after the adverts and stuff.”

“So, they have a time-limit?”

“Yeah of course, no one wants to watch this for five days. The players would be knackered. Anyway, awesome right?”

“It’s okay actually,” Draco admitted, “Though they should just station a flier – well kicker up near the goal for the forward pass. That way they wouldn’t have to worry about the defense.”

Dean shook his head immediately. “Offside Rule.”

“What?”

By the time Dean had assembled two pepper pots and two cans of potted meat from the Muggle’s cupboard and spent five minutes trying to explain complicated things about field positions to Draco he was more confused than he had been at the start. 

“Look it’s really simple.” Dean said finally, in tones of exasperation. “If you could do that then the guys could just score all the time and the game would be boring. You can’t have a Pepper Pot in front of the Corned Beef when the other Pepper Pot kicks to him.”

“You mean that getting past the defense is supposed to be hard and you can’t trick your way around it?”

“Pretty much,” Dean laughed as he gathered up the objects of his demonstration. “Honestly, if you told me a year ago that I’d trying to explain the Off-side rule to a Death Eater on the run with me I’d have called you simple.”

“If you told me a year ago that I’d be on the run I think I’d have asked if I could go sooner.” Draco admitted. “Though I’d have skipped the living on Salmon bit.”

“Do you dream about the Hogwarts Feasts too?” 

Dean smiled as Draco nodded. On the screen the two Muggles in suits stopped talking and play started again. Dean spent the next half of the game in states of alternating agony and ecstasy as West Ham scored once more and the Red team scored twice. Then in the dying seconds West Ham equalised and Draco wondered seriously if he’d have to confound the Muggles living around them if anyone came to investigate Dean’s whoops of joy.

“When this is over we need to go to a West Ham game for real.” Dean said. “I bet you can stretch some of that Malfoy gold to get season tickets for us.”

Draco shrugged. “Uncle Ted said he thought I’d appreciate some Muggle culture, and Merlin knows we need something to look forward to.”

Dean nodded, standing up and looking around them to check they’d left the place as undisturbed as possible. They made sure to re-secure all the locks and Draco cast the Disillusionment charms for both of them before they slipped quietly out the back door and disapparated back to the edge of camp. 

Draco was just about to walk forward when Dean suddenly grabbed his arm and motioned for him to stay silent. There were voices, several voices and some of them not human by the sounds of it, drifting out from the distant campfire. Draco recognised the harsh guttural sounds of the language they were speaking.

“Goblins.” Draco breathed. 

They both drew their wands and edged forwards, Draco let Dean go in front, he had the better shield charm after all. 

“The security of the camp is compromised.” One of the Goblins said abruptly, speaking in English now. “We should leave.”

“I told you,” came a familiar voice that had Draco releasing a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. It was Ted and if he was talking to the Goblins then things might be okay. “The boys went to the village, they’ll be back and then we can pack up.”

Dean obviously had the same thought because he immediately lowered his wand and stepped forward into the firelight. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Ted sighed. “We’ve got guests as you can see, where is Draco?”

“Here…” Draco edged himself into visibility and took in the sight of two goblins and a scruffy looking Wizard with a black eye. They looked back at him with expressions of wariness and suspicion that mirrored his own.

One Goblin rattled out a rapid stream of words, pointing at Draco and then to its own left arm. It wasn’t hard to work out what was being said and Draco felt his skin heat.

“We don’t have time for debate, Gornuk.” The scruffy Wizard spoke now. “They saw the broomstick crash and they will be coming. We need to leave now.”

“The camp is hidden,” Draco began, “we have charms.”

But Ted was already disassembling the tent and turning over the evidence of their fire. “Dirk’s got the right of it. We’ve got a site in mind and we can take you and Dean by side-along. Besides it’ll be warmer in the south.”

It was much easier to pack up your life when you really only had what you could carry. Draco stuffed his books and the carved draughtsboard into his rucksack and was ready in minutes. He would miss the campsite and the small world they had built here but really everything they had right now was a temporary as spring flowers until the Dark Lord was defeated.

In the darkness of the December evening it was hard to work out exactly where they were. Ted had only said ‘further south’ which given where they had just come from might be anywhere in Britain. As they followed along the river, searching for a place to lay camp again; Ted filled Dean and Draco in on what had happened.

“Broomstick came down not half a mile from where we were. He flew it clean across the North Sea, impressive bit of flying.”

“The North Sea?” Draco felt his stomach flip over. “Azkaban? Was he there?”

“On his way,” Ted looked grim. “Not that he’s done anything, mind you. Aside from being born to Muggles that is.”

“And the Goblins?”

“That one I can’t explain. Haven’t had a lot of time to ask but they have their own ways. They came looking for Dirk just about the same time he stumbled into our camp. You mind your tongue around them, Draco. They won’t take any lip.”

They came to rest on a sheltered patch of river bank. Draco took his Uncle’s advice and sat quietly, taking the measure of the new additions to their party before venturing any of his own opinions. Dirk Cresswell seemed nice enough even if he had given him the typically suspicious once-over upon realising exactly who Draco was. Ted found them salmon and Draco tried not to look as the two Goblins divided theirs in two and began to eat it raw.

When they eventually did find a suitable place to camp Dirk gave grim news of the world outside the woods. He looked grey with fatigue and worry and wouldn’t look at Draco or Dean when he mentioned his sons, half-bloods, both now at Hogwarts and under the regime’s thumb. 

“They’re being raised to hate their heritage.” He said sadly, shaking his head. “And when they come home next week for Christmas Ella is going to have to lie to them about where I am.”

Christmas? It couldn’t be nearly Christmas, how had that much time passed? What was his Mother going to do on Christmas without his Dad and with him in hiding. That was when the idea first came to him. It was ridiculous and he knew it was reckless of his to even be contemplating it but over the next week he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

“We’re not far from Godric’s Hollow,” he said to Ted, on the morning of Christmas Eve. 

“If by not far you mean within about fifty miles then yes.” Ted turned to him, concern written in every line of his face. “What is this about?”

Draco gave him a guilty look. “Well, my Mother and I had a sort of – family tradition – for Christmas Eve and I think I know when I might be able to speak to her. No,” he said before Ted could cut him off with any common sense. “I know it’s stupid and risky but I – I’ve thought about it and I have to try.”

“What if she’s with Death Eaters? What if she tries to take you back with her? What if you’re caught before you can even speak to her?”

“I know all that,” Draco felt like he wanted to burst with impatience. “But she’s my Mum. I have to try. I can’t leave her alone there with them.”

Ted looked at him for a long time. “You want my permission to go.” He hadn’t made it a question. He understood. 

Draco felt his throat tighten and nodded. “I can’t just disappear and have you not know where I am. Not after everything.”

“You’re worried you might not come back.”

Draco took another deep breath. “If I don’t then…then I want you to know…” He didn’t even know how to say it, how could he possibly put into words what Ted Tonks had done for him. “I wish I’d – I wish my Dad had…I wish he’d been more like you.”

Ted let out a long sigh and didn’t reply straight away. He rested a hand on Draco’s shoulder and then drew him into a close tight hug. “Go. We’ll stay until tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you…” Draco stepped back as Ted let him go, feeling suddenly awkward and self-conscious. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He didn’t say anything to any of the others but instead watched the sun track its way across the sky until it hung low on the horizon. He excused himself from the gathering around the fire and with one last glance back towards Ted, turned on the spot and disapparated.

Godric’s Hollow was quiet and seemed almost deserted. He cast the concealment charms quickly and hurried away through the snow. The house wasn’t be too far away and he felt a desperate rush of hope and anticipation that he might be about to see his Mother for the first time in nearly nine months. 

There it was, he could see the front gate lit up under the streetlamps, only a few more houses.

The windows were dark. Heart hammering, he pushed open the main gate and took a few steps up the path hoping that any second now the concealment would lift and the bright light would spill out of the windows. He made it to the front door and the house remained still and quiet. One quiet unlocking spell later and he stepped inside.

Nothing.

They had come here every Christmas. Every single Christmas except now, the one time he had needed it to happen. He felt like he could scream. It wasn’t fair. He yelped as a sudden sharp pain from his Mark burned its way up his forearm. He looked around wildly for any sign of Death Eaters but the streets were as deserted as ever.

Except for one strange figure hobbling up the centre of the street. Draco put away the pain of the Mark and ignored it. It must be just another summoning. The figure turned and Draco caught a flash of something in the snow behind it. Whatever it was it was heading in the same direction as his Apparition point. He hung back to give himself enough distance to avoid detection if the figure happened to turn around and then set off.

Ahead of him the figure opened a gate and disappeared into a house.

He was just breathing a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to risk getting seen when he heard a sudden scream and a name which carried on the still night air. 

“Harry.”

He would just look. If anyone was hurt then he’d help and then he’d go. He didn’t need to know what they were doing. He could go back to his camp and Ted, Dean, Dirk and the Goblins and have Christmas even if it was without his Mum. He would just look first.

He froze on the door step when he heard the sibilant hissing. He knew that creature that made that sound and what its presence meant. His mind was screaming at him to run the other way as fast as he could and keep running until there was no where else to run. But if He came then there would be no hope of running for any of them.

From Upstairs came the muffled sound of a spell exploding and a scream.

There was no more time for delay. He raced up the stairs two at a time and into a scene of absolute chaos.

Potter was lying in a heap frothing at the mouth and shaking. Granger was crouching in front of him like some vicious animal defending her cubs. She hadn’t seen him.

“Granger,” he took off at a run firing spell after spell at the snake knowing what it would do to them if it got a good hold. “Granger, run.” 

For a fraction of a moment her wand turned on him and then she seemed to understand. The snake reared back as if to strike again. Draco took a flying leap and tackled the thing around the neck, throwing it off balance and landing heavily as it twisted and bucked him off. 

“I said fucking run,” he yelled. “You’ve only got moments before he gets here.”

Granger was up on her feet, Potter’s hand clasped tightly in her own. The snake was already rearing for another strike. Well, if this was how he had to go at least someone would live to see it. There was a deafening crash, something shoved him forward and into a squeezing darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

The next breath he took was of cold, crisp air that set him coughing. The dust from the collapsing house had been brought with them and settled silently on the hillside where they had appeared. He could feel the wetness of melting snow through the back of his cloak and the prickle of the gorse buried beneath it. He was alive.

“You – you took me with you.”

“Set the charms.” Granger said shortly. “I need to help Harry.”

Draco moved automatically to do as she asked. Concealment charms had become second nature over these last few months of being on the run. He’d barely finished when she pointed to a tent. “Now that.”  
Once the tent was up, she sat back on her heels. “Help me with him, will you?”

Potter wasn’t shaking anymore but he didn’t look in any way good. There was an angry red burn on his chest where it looked like something had seared itself onto his flesh. Draco helped Hermione guide his unconscious body through the tent flap and onto one of the bunk beds. “What’s happened to him?”

“The snake bit him. I’ve done the best I can but…” and for the first time her composure faltered. “We’ll just have to wait now.”

Draco opened his mouth to say that no snake bite he’d ever seen Nagini deliver had done that to a person but then, looking at Granger’s haunted expression, thought better of it.

“You know what that snake was, don’t you?” He said slowly. “What it meant.”

She nodded briefly, sitting down on the floor beside Potter’s sleeping form. “We’d probably have been killed.”

Some of the adrenaline was leaving him now and Draco sat too, a respectable distance from Granger. “You saved my life. Thank you”

Granger’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Funny world we find ourselves, isn’t it?” 

“I can heal the wounds.” He said hesitantly. “If you want me too. My Uncle’s a healer. He’s been teaching me.”

It didn’t take him long. The burn was just a normal injury with no apparent magical origin. The question Draco couldn’t answer was why Potter would have put on a piece of red hot jewelry in the first place. The snake bite looked shallow and the cuts were clean even if they wouldn’t respond to his healing spells.

Granger looked over his work and nodded. “Better than I could have done. I suppose we should eat something. Do you have any food?”

“Only this.” Draco pulled out a squashed and melted bar of chocolate. “Been carrying it for emergencies. Dementors.”

Granger nodded and held out her hand to take the offered few pieces. “We’re going to need to find something more substantial though. Once he wakes up.” She shook her head and plucked two broken pieces of wood from her pocket. “I don’t know what he’s going to do when he sees this.”

“Is that his wand?” Draco’s hand reached automatically for his own, stored safely inside his robes. 

Granger nodded looking suddenly stricken. “We needed it – it’s hard to explain.”

Draco didn’t even know how to begin talking to Granger now that the immediate danger had passed and was glad when she too seemed content to drift into silence. The first time Potter had yelled out Draco had been up on his feet wand out before he’d even registered what the other man was saying. It sounded like a fever dream, screams about his Mum and Dad, about death. 

A long time ago in another life he remembered mocking Potter for this. He must have looked as sick at the thought as he felt because Granger was looking at him uncertainly. He glanced back at Potter who was still tossing and turning restlessly, “has he been like this before?”

“No, it’s probably just the effect of the…” Granger cut herself off like she’d been about to say something important. 

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly. Then abruptly he realised that something, or rather someone, was missing from their current party. “Where is Weasley? He wasn’t back there with us was he?”

“No.” Granger said abruptly. “He’s not here.” Her tone did not invite further questions.

Draco sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache pound behind his eyes. He got up stiffly and made his way to the sink, filling two glasses and handing her one. That was when he spotted it, hanging on the end of the bunk beds, the exact shape of the mark on Potter’s chest.

“What is this?” He reached out to touch it and then jerked back at the cold sensation almost at the same time as Granger’s snapped: “Don’t touch it.”

“Whatever that is,” he said sitting down again and glancing up at it nervously, “you really shouldn’t be carrying it around with you. It’s got some hideous curse on it.”

“I’m sure you’d know all about dark objects, Malfoy.”

There was a long and very awkward pause. “…Yes.” He said eventually. “Rather more than I really want to know in fact.”

“That wasn’t fair.” Granger said eventually. “And I’m sorry that I said it.”

Draco was reminded irresistibly of Ted Tonks at that moment and his train set on the first night Draco had stayed with them. “It’s alright, Granger. Mistakes happen, acknowledge them and do better.”

She gave him a genuine smile for his troubles that time. He was surprised to find himself warmed by it and wondered if this was the first time that he’d ever seen her looking anything but disgusted or angry. Potter picked that moment to let out another earth shatteringly loud yell of fear and rage. Granger grabbed at his hand and held it until he seemed to grow quiet again. 

“Why did you help us?” She said eventually. “He’d have killed you.”

“Honestly,” he flicked his gaze sideways and saw her looking at him with an odd intensity. “Potter is more important than I am. If I die then my life is over. If he dies then – well – it’s over for everyone including me.”  
To Draco’s genuine surprise Granger laughed. 

“Did you really just apply a utilitarian analysis to saving someone else’s’ life? That is the most Slytherin thing I have ever heard.”

“Well,” he muttered, feeling suddenly self-conscious, “you did ask.”

*  
Potter didn’t stir until the next morning when the sun was already well up. Draco, who had fallen into a fitful doze, woke to find Granger already pulling on her gloves and getting ready to leave the tent.   
Potter, still looking grey and tired, looked at him with open suspicion. “Are you sure that’s what happened? It’s not a trick?”

“Yes, I’ve told you a thousand times already, Harry now listen I have to go and get some food. We’re somewhere near Edinburgh, there’s bound to be a supermarket nearby somewhere.”

With that she stepped out of the tent flap and was gone leaving Draco facing Harry Potter. They looked at one another in awkward silence until finally Draco couldn’t take it any longer.

“Why is it every time I see you, Potter, you’ve somehow got yourself knocked out?”

He’d wanted to make Potter laugh, or make any expression at all that wasn’t the one of hard suspicion that he currently wore. It didn’t work.

“Don’t start that, Malfoy. How did you find us in the Hollow? Have you been following us? Did you bring Him down on us?”

The questions fired at him like bludgers leaving Draco feel oddly off balance. “What? No…I didn’t even mean to end up here. Granger…she pulled me along in the Apparition and if I was trying to bring the Dark Lord down on you don’t you think I’d have done it by now.” 

Potter seemed to relax a little at that, as if Draco’s answer had confirmed something important. “Hermione says you tackled the snake and gave her time to get us away.”

“Well I didn’t have time to think of anything better.” Draco scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

“We saw you with Dean and Tonk’s Dad just before Ron – well before we went to the Hollow” Potter said quietly. “What happened, why aren’t you with them now?”

Draco felt the sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Ted, Dirk and Dean. They would be gone by now. The other three wouldn’t have been able to wait longer than a day for him to return.   
“I…I wanted to try and get to my Mum.”

Potter’s expression was a study in sceptical disbelief. “In Godric’s Hollow? Don’t your family live in Somerset or something?”

“Wiltshire,” Draco corrected absently. “We…she liked to go for Christmas there, for the music. Before all this started anyway.” He sighed, thinking of last Christmas and the argument they’d had over it. “I wouldn’t go with her last year. I hoped she’d be there and I could get her away.”

“Away to where?”

“My Aunt’s house, at least at first. Anywhere that isn’t with the Dark Lord and where I know she’d be safe.”

“Well,” Potter’s expression softened just a little. “I’m sorry we interrupted your family reunion trying to get ourselves killed.”

“She wasn’t there.” Draco pressed his lips into a thin line. “I was stupid to even think about trying it anyway. 

At that moment Granger came back with her arms full of shiny packets of meat and some vegetables. She didn’t acknowledge either of them but moved straight over to the small kitchen and began attacking the packaging. 

“What happened,” Draco jerked his head towards the back of Granger’s head where she was concentrating fiercely on tenderizing a steak. “With Weasley…he’s not…”

“No.” Potter frowned, looking like he’d tasted something bitter. “No, he’s alive. Or he was when he took off.”

“He left?” Draco couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Ron Weasley throwing a tantrum even in the face of a life and death struggle against Dark Forces. It was better than the thought of him dead somewhere in the New Forest at any rate. “What, was the room service not up to his standards?”

“Lay off it, Malfoy.”

“Well you’ve got to admit there’s an irony that I’m here and he isn’t.”

“Is the whole of life about scoring points for you?” Potter bit back. “Do you have a notebook with a tally in it somewhere?”

“Shut up both of you.” Granger cut in. “Eat. The bicker all you like. I’m going to rest.”

Draco shot a slightly guilty look at Potter as the door slammed with finality. “I think that’s a points loss on the Granger tally.”

“Do you even have any points on Hermione’s tally?”

“Probably not,” Draco smiled and was glad when he saw the same smile echoed on Potter’s face. They took generous helpings of the food Granger had heated for them and sat down at the small table. “So, last time I saw you, you’d crashed in the vegetable garden and ruined Andromeda’s tomatoes. Seems like forever ago.”

“Yeah. What are you now? Undesirable number…?”

“I’m not sure if I have a number, you’d be number one of course.” Draco leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Honestly, even when I risk my neck to defy the most feared Wizard of all time you still have to beat me don’t you Potter?”

“Let me add it to my tally.”

It felt good to laugh again. It had been a long time since anything had genuinely done that. Strange how you could find humour even in the worst moments. The two of the lapsed into silence once again and Draco knew there was no way he could avoid saying what was coming.

“I really didn’t ask to be here, Potter,” Draco stared at the lino flooring. “but the truth is I’ve got nowhere else to go. Whatever you’re doing I’d like to help.”

Potter was already shaking his head. “You could go back to your Aunt’s house.”

Draco shook his head. “They’ve already got eyes on that place. I couldn’t. Come on Potter, this is me, would I really want to hang out with you if I had any other choice.”

“Go and rest,” Potter said shortly. “I – I’ll think about where we can help you hide.”


	13. Chapter 13

Potter didn’t say anything when Draco emerged from a too-short rest a few hours later. He and Granger whispered together furiously on the far side of their small sitting room while Draco tried very hard to pretend that he wasn’t there. Desperate for anything to distract him from the current situation he looked around and spotted a copy of Beedle the Bard on the side table by the lamp. Seeing it was in the original he almost put it back down again. Ancient Runes had never been his strong suit, he’d always preferred Potions and Charms, but he’d taken it at his Father’s insistence that some of the older and more unpleasant objects often used Runic Inscriptions and he would benefit from being able to read them.

This copy looked like someone, and of all the available candidates it had to be Granger, had been searching through it very hard for something. The Tale of the Three Brothers was grimy and ink-stained with the sign of the Deathly Hallows circled around with red ink. Why anyone would think it of such interest was beyond him. Draco had seen that sign all his life, doodled in his Father’s old schoolbooks, on the old family silver, everywhere.

Surely Potter wouldn’t be so stupid as to think that a legend would be the answer to defeating the Dark Lord, and if he was then wouldn’t Granger stop him? But if he knew what they were doing then they couldn’t ask him to leave could they?

“Are you looking for the Deathly Hallows?” 

The two of them looked up and gaped at him like a pair of fish. Obviously, he had guessed wrong.

“Deathly Hallows?” Granger said sharply, “what do you mean?”

Draco tapped the page impatiently. “Well you’ve got the sign circled about half a dozen times.”

“That’s Grindelwald’s mark.” Granger began, her familiar tones of insufferable smugness already beginning to bleed through.

“Yes,” Draco interrupted, “and before that it was the symbol for the Deathly Hallows. Here, look; the cloak,” he drew his wand and traced a triangle in mid-air which hung there, glowing white, “the stone,” a circle, “and the wand.” 

Potter still wore the expression of gormless incomprehension but Granger looked as if someone had slapped her awake. “But it’s a story…it’s for children. Those things in the story can’t really exist, how could they?”

Draco shook his head, suddenly excited. “The Elder Wand does certainly. Where do you think Grindelwald took the symbol from? He wanted the Hallows, wanted to master Death. He was supposed to have found the wand…but of course he can’t have kept it because he lost to Professor Dumbledore and the wand is unbeatable.”

“Are you telling me,” Granger said scornfully, “that you actually believe in fairy tales?”

“Granger, you’re a Muggleborn,” he said throwing the book down in exasperation. “I’d have thought you of all people would be better at suspension of disbelief.”

“Magic is one thing.” Granger shot back, “it has rules and laws just as much as anything else. Legendary objects that defy what we know about those laws are another thing altogether.”

Potter shook his head. “Enough, none of this matters anyway. Malfoy, you can’t stay – we’re going to move camp. You can stay for tonight but in the morning, I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave.”

“Harry,” Granger cut in but Potter silenced her with a touch of his hand. “It has to be just us, Hermione.”

“Fine.” Draco sighed, wondering where he was going to sleep tomorrow and when he might next get to eat a decent meal. All the same though he wasn’t surprised, what possible reason would they have to trust him. “I understand.”

It didn’t make sense to wait to move and so Draco stood outside the tent whilst the other two packed feeling lost and afraid. 

“Your charms held well,” Granger said to him once they were ready to leave, with a note of approval in her voice, “so when we’ve Apparated I want you to cast them again.” 

She held out her arm and he took hold of it not missing the slight surprise in her eyes; she hadn’t expected him to be able to bear to touch her. He wanted to go back in time and shout at his thirteen year-old self until he couldn’t shout anymore. They reappeared not on a hillside this time but a forest clearing. He didn’t waste any time and paced a wide circle around the tent casting the charms to hide Potter and Granger from view.

“Does this place have anywhere I can wash?’ Draco asked hesitantly. He’d become used to being dirty but still the idea of not having to be, at least for a little while, was a comforting one. 

Granger looked at him as if seeing the grime for the first time. “Yes, if you tap the sink in the loo it extends.”

Draco shut the door and stripped out of his robes without looking in the mirror. Everything he had been wearing was almost at the state of being able to stand up on its own and he had to siphon the water out of the tub completely at least once before he could settle in for a good soak without strange black and grey flecks of something he didn’t care to investigate further floating to the top of the water. The bath felt almost too good to be true. Luxury like this seemed a distant memory and he promised himself, for what felt like the hundredth time since last summer, never to take anything for granted again.

The sound of an impatient fist banging on the door brought him out of his reverie. “Malfoy, how long are you going to be in there?”

“Sorry,” he called back and stepping shivering onto the cold tiles. “Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” he muttered, picking up a hand-towel and expanding and shaping it into a good-enough bath robe. 

The main part of the tent was much warmer than the bathroom. Granger had a fire going and looked up at him as Potter barged past him and into the now vacant bathroom. “Now this is something I never thought I’d see.” She commented with a wry smile.

“I just need to get my robes clean again,” he muttered, making a beeline for the bedrooms.

“Here,” she said briskly, getting to her feet and pointing her wand at the pile of dusty clothing in his arms. “Elavo.” Before Draco could object all of them, including some that he had hoped very much never to have seen by Hermione Granger, had leapt out of his arms and were twisting in mid-air and orbiting a small but growing ball of dirt. Granger vanished it with one flick of her wand and then with another had the pile back in his arms. 

“Thank you,” he said with as much dignity as he could manage. “I’d have done it myself but probably not half as well.”

Granger shrugged. “Ron couldn’t do it either. Or Harry actually. But anyway, you’re welcome.”

The tent had two bedrooms, Draco collected his small bag of belongings from the main living area and made his way into the smaller of the two and dropped them on the bed before changing back into his robes. He felt more exhausted than ever and it felt extremely tempting to fall into bed and sleep for a solid ten hours. He had to eat first though, reasoning that being hungry as well as cold and tired wouldn’t make tomorrow any easier.

He made his way back into the main room and settled awkwardly into an armchair. “Where are we anyway?” .

“Forest of Dean, it’s big enough that we can hide pretty easily.” 

“I don’t suppose you know any ways to contact the Order.” Draco persisted. “Seeing as all I’ve got is my wand, a few books and some spare blankets.”

“We could go to the Burrow.” Potter looked at Granger who shook her head. He sighed and continued. “No, it’s too dangerous. We can give you supplies; maybe help you get back to your Aunt's or nearby.”

Granger gave Draco a look of mingled pity and determination. “We could make him swear a vow, Harry…he’s already here and Ron’s -”

“No. Honestly Hermione, I’m not going over this again.”

“I’m not going to beg, Potter.” Draco said stiffly. “And I’m grateful for the help you’ve already given me anyway. I’d have been dead if you hadn’t taken me with you.”

Granger gave Potter another anxious look and stood, chewing her lip. “Well, I’m going into the village under the cloak before Malfoy leaves anyway. The least we could do is give him some of our food and we’re going to need more.” Draco wished he’d had an invisibility cloak for the few times he’d had to sneak into Muggle towns with Dean or one of the adults.

Potter gave a half shrug which Granger seemed to take as acceptance. It would have made things easier. Granger hurried out the tent leaving Draco and Potter face to face once more. Potter was looking at him warily. “Have you really been on the run since September?”

“About that long, I think. We found Dean after he jumped the Express and Dirk a couple of weeks ago.”

There was another long silence.

“I want you to know that this asking you to go isn’t…well…it isn’t personal.” Potter said awkwardly. “No, really…” He added forcefully, when Draco couldn’t keep the expression of withering disbelief off his face. “Dumbledore said it had to be just us.”

“Dumbledore was an idiot.” Draco retorted. “He trusted his feelings over facts. Sure, you’ve got a hero complex and Granger is as smart as anyone I’ve ever met, but you’re both kids. Why not let other people help?”

“Sure, idiot enough to give you a second chance that means you’re even standing here at all.” Potter shot back. “Bet you wish you were back with Mummy and Daddy at the Manor right now?” Even as he said it Draco saw the horror on Potter’s face as he realised what he’d said. “I mean – fuck – your Dad. I didn’t mean… why do you have to be such a prat, Malfoy?”

Draco shrugged. “Practice. But I’m still right, why wouldn’t Dumbledore let other people help you?”

Potter sighed. “If I explained that then I might as well have told you. Anyway, there’s something else I need to apologise for. Last year, that curse…I want you to know I’m really sorry.”

Draco gave an involuntary shudder at the memory of the red-hot pain and the warmth of his own blood on his hands as his chest had been carved open. If it hadn’t been for Snape he could quite easily have died there in that bathroom.

“You must have really hated me to get that one out.” He said softly. “It’s a pretty dark curse.”

Potter’s face was a wide-open book of emotions now. He looked desperate for Draco to understand. “I didn’t know what it would do. Honestly, you have to believe me I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known.”

“I do believe you, Potter,” Draco said frankly. “And thank you for apologising. It means a lot.”

From the slightly awkward pause that followed Draco supposed that Potter had expected this to be some sort of great epiphany where they all apologised and made friends. Draco knew he wasn’t ready for that and would rather live with the awkwardness than hold any false comforts.

“I suppose we should wait for Granger.”

He sat flipping though ‘Medicinal Charms and their use in Healing’ only half paying attention to anything. Granger came back a couple of hours later looking harassed and anxious. She piled up peanut butter, brightly packaged bars of cereal and chocolate and pushed them towards him.

“I got things I thought would give you some good calories.”

Draco muttered his thanks and carefully stored them away in his bag. He could probably go and check all the campsites where he, Ted, Dean and Dirk had stayed. Perhaps if he left a message somehow, they’d know to come back for him.

He watched Granger carefully fold up Potter’s cloak and put it way somewhere in her own charmed bag and wondered idly how much one of those would cost if he could somehow sneak money out of his vault at Gringotts. Of course, he didn’t really have a vault at Gringotts right now and that was probably his biggest sticking point.

“Wish I’d thought to buy one of those back in 6th year,” he said, nodding towards the bag where she’d just put it away. “Would have made sneaking about a lot easier.”

Granger gave him a look of scornful disbelief. “You’ll pardon me if I’m glad you didn’t manage it earlier.” She said tartly.

“Yeah…” Draco felt awkward now. “Me too I suppose.”

“And if you’re going to ask to buy it,” Potter cut in, “it’s not for sale. Even if we didn’t need it for what we’re doing it was my Dad’s.”

“I don’t need to buy your things, Potter.” Draco snapped. “If we somehow survive this I’ve got plenty of gold to buy my own cloak. Anyway,” he shrugged and looked over towards the kitchen searching for a way to change the subject. “I can make a stew tonight with the leftovers if you want.”

“Are you sure?” Granger said, in the tones of someone who didn’t quite believe him capable of cooking.

“Well, it’s not exactly difficult is it?” He tried to keep the smugness out of his voice at the surprise on her and Potter’s faces. “Edible potions, that’s all. What did you think I did camping out for two months? Ate my meat raw?”

He put a lot of effort into the food, some irrational part of him hoping that if he showed he was useful somehow then Potter would change his mind. None of them talked much, it seemed like there was a giant ginger haired elephant in the room that squashed any real effort at conversation. They wouldn’t tell him what they’d been doing aside from confirming that Dean’s suspicions about the raid on the Ministry and Potter seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

Draco found himself making awkward conversation with Hermione Granger about his cousin and Remus Lupin’s wedding. It was a ridiculous topic to choose but then what else could they discuss, they hadn’t had a whole slew of nice positive interactions to share with one another and Draco got the impression that Granger, like himself, was desperate for conversation that didn’t focus on death and war.

“Did you really study all the history behind that Hallows thing?” She said eventually, when all possible questions about the wedding had been exhausted. “It’s a bit morbid isn’t it?”

Draco had a sudden memory from years ago after his Grandmother had died. His Dad had caught him dressed in one of his Dad’s own travelling cloaks, clutching a stick for a wand and one of lumps of coal from their fire to stand in for the Resurrection stone. He must have been about eight, maybe nine. What he wouldn’t give to be able to talk to his Father one last time.

“I always liked the story. I suppose everyone is interested in things that they think will give them power.” Granger made a small sound of irritation at that answer and he scowled at her. “And I liked the history. I like that stuff; it tells me where I come from.”

She shrugged and shook her head. “I wish I knew what Dumbledore was trying to tell us.”

Draco cast an anxious look towards the door to the tent and the hostile world outside. “Probably to look for the Hallows. It’s far-fetched enough for him to think it’d work. I mean you’ve already got a…” then it hit him like a thunderclap and he slapped his hand to his forehead and let out a jubilant laugh. “I’m a fucking moron.”

“At last, he realises.” Potter commented snidely.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Potter, actually no – your cloak. It was your Dad’s?”’

Potter gave him a curious look and nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“Cloaks don’t last that long.” Draco’s mind was working so fast that he had to pause to let his mouth catch up. “They don’t – they fade or unravel or just – I don’t know- wear out. Do you know how long your Dad had it?”

“Well, at school at least.” 

“It’s a Hallow, that’s what the old man was trying to tell you. You’ve got a Hallow. If you can get them all then you’ll be the Master of Death. He won’t be able to kill you.”

“But…” Granger frowned and shook her head. “It can’t be that. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“And anyway,” Potter sighed, his earlier hope seeming to die as quickly as it had risen. “Even if you were right and we somehow did get all the Hallows we still wouldn’t be able to kill him.”

“Why not?” Draco said sharply, “he’s just a man. He can be killed.”

“Yeah,” Potter said suddenly, the casual tone unconvincing. “Yeah, you’re right.”

It was already getting dark again outside and the air outside the small circle of heat by their fire was cooling. Granger got up to clear up the mess from their supper and Potter took up a seat by the tent door, obviously designating himself their lookout. Draco returned back to the bed he’d be sleeping on and put on every layer of clothing he owned before curling up under the blankets. Even with the extra insulation it still took what felt like at least an hour of uncomfortable tossing and turning before he finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The look on Draco's face when Harry is trying to tell him that making him leave isn't personal is one of my favourite parts of this whole fic. FYI.


	14. Chapter 14

When he woke again it was still dark. He couldn’t hear Potter’s breathing in the bed across the room from his so that meant he couldn’t have been asleep more than a few hours. He lay there in the small cocoon of warmth trying to ignore the call of his treacherous bladder but there was no avoiding it. He wrapped the duvet around himself and padded out into the main living area, the cold seeping through the two socks to freeze the soles of his feet.

The fire still burned but it was freezing cold from the air drifting in the open tent flap. Something felt very wrong.

“Potter?” Draco said quietly, lighting the tip of his wand and looking around the room, hoping to find the other boy curled up asleep in a corner. He wasn’t there. Draco moved quickly over to the tent flap and peered outside, there were footprints in the fresh snow leading away from the tent.

Fucking Potter and his fucking endless ability to make stupid decisions. Someone needed to go after him.

It didn’t matter how urgent the situation was, there was no way he was barging into Hermione Granger’s bedroom uninvited without at least a full set of Goblin made Armor and one hell of shield charm. He hammered on the door instead and a few moments later she was there, looking dishevelled but absolutely alert.

“Potter’s gone,” he said quickly before she could start to interrogate him. “There are footprints.”

She retraced Draco’s steps, to the tent door, outside and then back to the room he’d been sleeping in.

“He’s taken the Locket.” She shook her head frantically as if trying to clear it to think. “One of us needs to go after him but...”

But if she went then that would leave him here alone and she didn’t trust him. Well that wasn’t his problem.

“I don’t want to go out there.” He protested. “There’s probably a whole pack of Werewolves and a swarm of Dementors in this forest.”

Granger prodded him sharply in the chest. “You said it yourself, if Harry dies then we all die. So, if you don’t want that to happen then get out there after him.”

She was right. Stupid, bushy-haired, self-important Muggleborn. “Damn you all to Tarturus,” he swore, pushing open the tent flap and casting Lumos to illuminate his path ahead. 

The footprints were already softened under the steadily falling snow. Draco pulled his cloak tightly around himself but it did little to keep out the moisture of melting snow and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was frozen to the bone.

There was a sudden peal of laughter and voices talking in rapid excited voices. About fifty feet ahead of him through the trees he saw another bobbing light and two figures. One of them was Potter, but who else could he possibly have found in the middle of a forest at night. He extinguished his wand light and pressed himself back against the trees as the voices grew closer.

“You’ve sort of made up for it tonight. Getting the sword, finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life.” 

Horcrux? Draco’s stomach gave a strange flip. He’d heard that word before somewhere but when? Was that the big secret?

“Potter, I came to…”

Draco had just enough time to recognise Ron Weasley’s face before he was thrown backwards and hit the tree hard. He landed just as heavily the breath knocked out of him. Weasley had shoved Potter out of the way and had his wand out aimed at Draco’s heart. In his other hand he was holding a long silver sword and around his neck was the Locket that Granger had warned Draco away from on his first night with them. It looked broken and dented, was that the Horcrux?

“Run, Harry I’ll….”

“No, Ron wait…he – Malfoy’s with us.”

Draco picked himself up, feeling around his mouth to check all his teeth were still in place before rounding on Potter. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you even know if this is Weasley? It could be anyone. You can’t just go wandering off and not tell anyone where you’re going!”

“Of course, it’s Ron.” Potter snapped. “He just saved my life.”

“And destroyed the Horcrux. I heard you just now and if I heard you anyone could have.”

“You told Malfoy about the Horcruxes?” Weasley’s eyes looked ready to bug out of his head. “Malfoy?”

“No.” Potter looked a little ashamed now. “He must have heard us like he said.”

Weasley looked very much like he wanted to try another hex. “How did you manage to worm your way in here anyway, Malfoy?”

“Much as I’m overjoyed to see you too, Weasley, could we please continue this back in the tent and not out hear where we could be seen at any moment.”

Weasley stayed behind Draco the entire walk back up to the tent while Potter seemed eager to run ahead and tell Granger that the three of them had finally been reunited. Draco slipped into the tent with Weasley following just in time to hear Potter finish speaking.

“…there’s someone here!”

Draco took an automatic step back at the look on Granger’s face. He’d seen it before in the split second before she had smacked him in the face back in his third year. He exchanged an anxious look with Potter and then dodged out of the way as Granger surged forward and began pummelling at every part of Weasley she could reach.

Draco got himself out the way and came to stand by Potter. “Should we do something?”

“I don’t know.” Potter actually winced as Granger gave one last smack to Weasley’s face and stood back, screaming at him. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

Reasoning that Granger had far more reason to curse him into a sorry heap than she ever would have for doing the same to Weasley; Draco tried to make himself as small and invisible as he could while she raged. Eventually she seemed to stop just being angry at him and moved onto scornful disbelief.

Weasley still persisted though, pleading with her to understand. “I wanted to come back the minute I’d Disapparated but I couldn’t, I’d walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn’t go anywhere.”

Snatchers Draco knew, Dirk had talked about them and there had been a few times before they’d moved camp the first time that Ted had told them to keep quiet when a charm sounded an alert. Getting caught must have been a terrifying experience. He had to catch himself at that thought, sympathy for Weasley was a new and very uncomfortable emotion.

Granger wasn’t having any of it though.

“Gosh, what a gripping story. You must have been simply terrified. Meanwhile we went to Godric’s Hollow and, let’s think, what happened there, Harry? Oh yes, You-Know-Who’s snake turned up and it nearly killed us. Malfoy,” Granger said his name like it was some kind of awful swear word, “Malfoy turned up and practically saved our lives and where were you?”

“What?” Weasley looked at Draco as if seeing him properly for the first time.

“Imagine losing Fingernails, Harry.” Granger scoffed, “really puts it in perspective doesn’t it?”

“Hermione,” Potter said quietly, “Ron just saved my life.”

Only then did Granger think to ask the obvious question that had been plaguing Draco since the moment he first set eyes on Weasley and ask how it was that he’d even known where they were. Weasley’s explanation involved another one of Dumbledore’s strange gifts and seemed too far fetched to be a trick from the Dark Lord.

“Did you really just follow a spell into the woods at night?” He said, trying to keep the scorn in his tone to a minimum. “What if it had been a trap?”

“Well it wasn’t a trap was it?” Potter said, looking at him like he was simple. Weasley kept talking until he reached the bit about the Locket. Draco couldn’t help but lean forward, eager to finally learn exactly what it was that he’d sensed in the object that first night.

“Ron, no…” Granger interrupted, giving Draco a suspicious look. 

Draco couldn’t help himself. “Don’t worry, Granger, I know all about the Horcrux.” He was gratified when this earned Potter a look of scalding reproof. 

“Harry, you said - ”

“How was I supposed to know he’d follow me and spy on our conversations? He was snoring loud enough to wake the dead when I saw the Doe.”

“I do not snore,” Draco said haughtily, “but either way Granger sent me after you Potter, you’re quite right I wouldn’t have followed you. I have more sense than you do.”

“Well he has to stay now,” Granger said with an air of finality. “If he’s captured…” she looked between Potter and Weasley with an air of resignation.

“I suppose so.” Potter shrugged. Weasley just looked past him. Draco didn’t exactly blame him, they had history.

After a short and mostly silent debate; Potter took the spare bed in Granger’s room for the remainder of the night and Draco found himself lying awake listening to Ron Weasley’s steady breathing. He missed Ted and his steadying presence. He missed Dean and his stupid obsession with Muggle sports. He missed have any sense of normality and routine.

The next day when Potter, Granger and Weasley packed up camp and moved on they took him with them. It was Potter who explained in more excruciating detail what a Horcrux was while they sat puzzling over where to move to next.

“So, when you said he can’t die…he literally can’t. That’s why he came back?”

Potter nodded grimly.

“And you think he has seven, including himself?”

“Had seven; the diary was destroyed and so was the ring. Now we’ve destroyed the locket too. We think he liked things belonging to powerful magical families. One of them is probably a cup owned by Helga Hufflepuff and the other one is that snake but we don’t know what the last one is or where it might be. You didn’t hear him talk about any other powerful objects? Things he wanted guarded.”

Draco shook his head, feeling frustrated and afraid. How could he ever have believed that a Wizard like that was worth following?

“This was your plan? Just the three of you on your own?”

“It has to be us.” At that moment Potter looked like he very much wished it didn’t have to be. “If he knows that we know then he’ll hide them more completely than before. We have to destroy them before I face him.”

Draco couldn’t help himself. “Didn’t you ever think about – about just chucking it in and escaping. Letting him win?”

Potter gave him a wry smile. “Chosen One, remember?” And then his expression grew suddenly more serious. “Besides, he killed my Mum and Dad. If I can stop him then I have to try.”

Now that it was accepted that he would be staying with them Draco found himself treated with a studious courtesy by both Potter and Granger that skirted the edges of friendliness without ever truly crossing over into it. They allowed him to sit and take part as they all decided what to do next. Potter seemed almost keen on his theory about the Deathly Hallows and Granger foisted what felt like fifty books onto him so that he could read about famous magical objects and try to work out where they should next target.

Several days passed before Draco worked up the courage to speak to Weasley who mostly acted as if he didn’t even exist. He picked his opportunity carefully, waiting until Potter and Granger had both retired to bed and Weasley could safely refuse and leave Draco alone to sleep out in the main living area.

“Do you want me to sort out those fingernails for you, Weasley?”

Weasley looked up, frowning at him. “What?”

“Your hand,” Draco nodded towards the two fingertips, still bloodied and raw from being broken open every time Weasley went to picks something up or use his wand hand. “I can fix it for you.” 

Draco was ready for an argument or for at least some snide comment and was surprised when Weasley simply nodded, getting up and moving to sit directly beside Draco’s make-shift bed.

“Go on then.”

“I have to…” Draco pointed to Weasley’s hand and then hesitated until he got another nod. He held Weasley’s fingers still between his own and studied the wounds carefully. He could do this; he’d vanished and regrown his own thumbnail a few times to check that he could.

He did the spells quickly one after the other and couldn’t keep the smile of pleasure off his face when he saw his success.

“You weren’t kidding.” Weasley drummed his freshly returned fingernails against the wooden edge of the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“It isn’t hard.” Draco muttered, unsure of how to proceed in a conversation with the two of them that hadn’t yet descended to insults. “My Uncle taught me.”

“Tonks’s Dad, right?”

For a moment Draco wondered how Weasley knew but then realised that of course they’d all talk. They shared everything.

“Yeah. Yeah my Aunt and him took me in after…well after I came over to this side I suppose.”

“You poisoned the mead that nearly killed me.” Weasley said in the same steady tone. It was so out of the blue that it took a second for Draco to realise what Weasley was even talking about. “The Death Eaters you let into Hogwarts nearly succeeded in murdering my brother. Now he’s scarred for life. The Master you swore loyalty to very nearly murdered my Dad.”

Draco folded his arms tightly around himself. “What’s your point, Weasley?”

Weasley’s face hardened. “I don’t think you switched sides, Malfoy. I think you got in over your head and you were looking for a way out of facing the consequences for the shitty things you’d already done. Harry might fall for your whole act of remorse and Hermione believes you’ve changed but I don’t. I’m watching you and if you hurt them I will hunt you down and make you pay for every last thing you’ve done to harm the people I love.”

Draco swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to do any of those things, Weasley. He was going to kill my whole family if I didn’t. Why do you think he murdered my Dad the second I stepped out of line? The only reason my Mum is still alive is because he thinks I’ll try to come back for her.”

“Justify it however you want, Malfoy.” Weasley shrugged. “You’ve got a lot more lives to save before you make up for even half the damage you’ve done.” 

With that Weasley got up and disappeared into Granger’s room leaving Draco alone feeling like he’d just been kicked in the stomach. Was this going to be his life now? Hunted by the followers of the Dark Lord and derided and hated by everyone else for ever having been a part of the Dark Lord’s plans.


	15. Chapter 15

A week later and three changes of campsite they were no closer to moving forward in their quest. They sat down as they had done every morning after their evening meal and tried to come up with a plan.  
“I’m telling you Granger,” he insisted, “that cloak is a Hallow. You should be looking for the wand and the stone, not the Horcruxes. At least we know what the Hallows look like.”

For what felt like the hundredth time Granger shook her head and sighed in irritation. “It’s just a children’s story.”

“Malfoy might have a point.” Potter said thoughtfully. “I mean, if the cloak is what he says it is then maybe it isn’t just be a story. I’ve lost my old wand so its protection is gone. The idea of an unbeatable wand is pretty tempting.”

Draco couldn’t help but glance back towards Granger’s bag where the broken ends of Potter’s old wand had been stored. Weasley had come back with an extra wand from when he’d managed to escape from the Snatchers and Draco had seen Potter practicing with it and the results didn’t bode well for a looming duel with the most feared Dark Lord Europe had seen for a century or more.

“Perhaps we should go back to Godric’s Hollow,” Draco volunteered. “The Peverells were the ones who were supposed to have created the Hallows in the first place and that was their ancestral seat. Maybe Dumbledore left you more clues or something?”

“I don’t think we should go anywhere without a good plan.” Weasley put in. “And no, I’m not just saying that because it’s you Malfoy,” he added before Draco could say anything. “Honestly, we can do this we just to plan it properly.”

“I haven’t ever heard of the Peverells in any recent Wizarding history,” Granger said, picking up another of her many books and leafing through it.

“They died out.” Draco said shortly. “Lots of the old families have. Mine is one of the last ancient Pureblooded lineages left.”

“I’ve heard of them.” Potter said suddenly, his whole face suddenly coming alive with excited interest. “Marvolo Gaunt.”

That was a name he hadn’t heard in a very long time. “How do you know about the Gaunts, Potter?” 

“Never mind that, just listen…”

Growing up, Draco had always assumed that Dumbledore was exactly what Lucius Malfoy had so scornfully insisted he was. Nothing more than a batty old man who was losing his mind and had been given the job of Headmaster at Hogwarts more out of pity than because he had any real competence. That illusion had been well and truly shattered by his experiences over the last two years but now as he listened to Potter talk about what Dumbledore had shown him during the final year of his life Draco began to really admire the brilliance of the Wizard who, even in the face of death, had given Draco this chance at redemption.

The other three were arguing again about whether the Hallows were even real. Draco didn’t need to consider that possibility, he remembered the shock he’d felt the first time Potter had let him use the cloak to Apparate, how light and airy it felt and how perfect its concealment had been. To him there was no doubt that Potter had one of the legendary Hallows in his possession.

As if he had read Draco’s mind Potter picked that moment to make a grab for the cloak, running it through his hands with a look of furious concentration on his face.

“Dumbledore had my cloak the night my parents died.” Potter said suddenly. “My Mum told Sirius Dumbledore borrowed the cloak. This is Why! He wanted to examine it. He thought it was the third Hallow.” 

Granger and Weasley were staring at Potter as if he was mad, their eyes following him as he paced around the tent. “Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godrics Hollow, like Malfoy said, and that’s where my family lived. He’s my ancestor. I’m descended from the third brother. It all makes sense.”

“Of course, it makes sense Potter,” Draco began, “because that’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

Potter wasn’t listening. He pulled out a letter and thrust it at Granger. “Read it.” Granger still had that maddening look of smug disregard on her face. “Read it!” Potter insisted again. “Dumbledore had the cloak, Hermione. Why else would he want it? He could perform a Disillusionment charm so powerful he could make himself completely invisible without one.”

Something golden flashed across the floor and Potter looking more agitated than Draco had ever seen him made a grab for it. 

“IT’S IN HERE! He left me the ring – it’s in the Snitch!”

Potter snatched up the Snitch as if he somehow expected it to unfurl and display another legendary magical object. But when nothing happened, he didn’t look disappointed, rather suddenly alarmed and disturbed.

“That’s what He’s looking for. Ollivander, Gregorovitch – he doesn’t want a new wand he wants the Elder Wand.”

Weasley had gone pale. “Harry, you can’t keep letting your connection to Vol – You-Know-Who open like this. You’ll get us all killed.”

“And so what if he does want the wand?” Granger said quietly. “How does that even help us. We need to stay focused.”

“Ron.” Potter said the name like a talisman, as if Weasley wouldn’t dare disagree with him.

Weasley shook his head. “Harry, mate. I – I think we’re supposed to be hunting Horcruxes. Maybe we should put this Hallows business away.”

Now Potter rounded on him still full of manic enthusiasm. “Malfoy, what do you think?”

“It – the stone,” Draco looked at the Snitch still clutched in Potter’s hand. If he could get the stone he could talk to his Father again. “Do you really think it could be? I mean, it fits.”

“I can’t believe you’re asking Malfoy over your friends.” Weasley snapped. “Honestly Harry, we have to stay focused.”

“Well at least some of us are seeing sense.” Granger sniffed. “I’ll take first watch.”

Weasley shrugged and disappeared into the room that he now shared with Granger. Draco stared after him and then looked back to Potter. “What did Weasley mean when he talked about your connection. You can see into his mind?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Malfoy.” Potter looked irritated that his two best friends had banded together and he’d had to resort to Draco’s support. “Let’s get some rest.”

*  
The days slid past one another. Draco raided Granger’s book pile for any healing texts and found a few that he devoted his days to reading and avoiding Weasley’s company whenever possible. Once or twice Draco caught the two of them, Granger and Weasley, whispering together and casting significant looks at Potter. As for Potter himself, the Boy who Lived seemed to disappear into himself and that left only Granger to talk to; she at least tolerated his company.

This particular morning, she had borrowed him to transfigure her for a trip into the Muggle settlement not far from their latest campsite. Weasley had made some vague attempts at protestation but Draco’s transfiguration ability was significantly greater than his own and he had contented himself with only filthy looks. 

“Do you mind if I come along?” Draco asked hesitantly. “Only I’m just about losing my mind here and I’d do anything for a change of scenery.”

Granger looked like she was about to refuse when Weasley looked up. “No.” He said stubbornly. “You’re not spending any time with her. I forbid it.”

Draco suppressed a chuckle as Granger’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared under her fringe. “Excuse me, Ronald?”

Weasley’s ears were going red. “I don’t want you around him, Hermione. He’s…well you know how I feel about it.”

Draco couldn’t resist the urge to put the boot in. “I know how you feel about it too, Weasley, don’t worry I haven’t missed your subtle hints.”

“Am I going to have to separate the pair of you like toddlers?” Granger snapped. “We’re not in school anymore so stop behaving like idiots. In fact, yes. Draco, you’re coming with me. I’ve been wanting to visit a pharmacy and you might know better what we could use.”

“Hermione!” 

“Not another word, Ronald Weasley.” Granger turned her wand on Draco who put his hands up defensively. “Oh for goodness sake,” she sighed. “I’m disguising you.”

Fewer than five minutes later Draco found himself walking down the main shopping street of a Muggle town alongside Hermione Granger, both of them looking old and grey. He rather suspected that she’d used the Apothecary idea as an excuse to bring him along just to annoy Weasley because it turned out to be absolutely no use to them. 

“I don’t know what any of these pills and ointments do, Granger. I can do spells for relief of pain and there are potions for sickness that are easy to brew. This is all Muggle stuff.”  
They left the Apothecary and made their way down the street towards the large food store. Granger left it to Draco to cast the non-verbal confundus charms on the workers there. He was glad of that he had no idea what all of the shiny plastic packages and logos meant and they needed to move fast.

Then something caught his eye.

“Wait a minute, Granger…look at these.” He ran his fingers over the labels excitedly, mustard seeds, salt, garlic. “Do these Muggles know what they’ve got here?”

“What are you talking about? Those are just ordinary spices.”

“No, they’re not, look we can find willow bark easily and if we add in salt or – do Muggles use honey – and say the right charms then we’ve got a balm of soothing right there. That’s just the start. I’ll bet I could do loads with these.”

Granger goggled at him. “You’re mad. You’re actually mad.” But she was grinning. “I’d never have thought of doing that. I wonder if…” and with that she stood up, having carefully summoned the necessary spices into her beaded bag. “We’ll have to find a way to pay for all of this eventually,” she said anxiously. “But for now, come with me.”

Apparently, Muggles had whole shops where you could go and buy flowers, not plants that you could grow, just dead flowers. The place made him want to sneeze the moment he stepped foot in it.

“What’s the point of growing all these things just to slice them off and sell them? They can’t last more than a week without a decent freezing charm.”

“Shut up and look, I’m sure we can find all sorts of…see foxgloves!”

“Well, we could pick those in the woods.”

The shop full of dead flowers didn’t turn out to be quite the treasure trove Granger had hoped for and they left hurriedly once the owner became a little too interested in trying to sell them an anniversary wreath.

“That was a really good idea to get those herbs and spices,” Granger said quietly as they made their way back to the Apparition point. She fell silent again and Draco didn’t interrupt as she seemed about to say something else. 

When she did it surprised him. I’m sorry about Ron. He means well. It’s just,” she looked at Draco almost regretfully. “He just doesn’t trust you yet.”

“I wouldn’t.” He said quietly. “Not if I was him and having to put faith in an ex-Death Eater. I don’t think anyone has at first, except maybe Uncle Ted. And honestly, I can’t say that I blame them.”

Granger looked at him thoughtfully. “I think that I trust you.” 

“Wonderful, two fugitives from the law believe in me. I’ll just write to the Wizengamot.” Draco muttered. “Joking, I’m joking!” He added hastily when Granger gave him a look to rival a thundercloud in storminess. “I appreciate it though. And ask for Weasley…could you tell him to lay off a little?”

“No promises.” Granger gave him a brief smile and held out her arm for the Apparition. “Ready?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters for the price of one!!

The weeks continued to slip past in a blur of wooded campsites and cold nights. Draco wasn’t sure what, if anything, Granger had said to Weasley but things did get a little easier. Weasley didn’t talk to him any more than he had to but they managed to have at least civil conversations about where the Horcruxes could be and how to go about finding them. 

In idle moments he found himself dreaming about simply returning home. He squashed those thoughts quickly because they only led to thoughts of his Mum and Dad and the loss of them that still ached like a wound inside him. He recognised the black mood that was settling on him. It was the same blank despair that had begun to overwhelm him during the year he’d tried to kill Dumbledore. He hadn’t noticed he was getting thinner until he finally ran out of belt notches and had to create a new one. Still it was hard to motivate yourself to eat a good meal when there didn’t seem to be any real hope of the world improving.

More and more he thought about Dean and Ted, wondering where they were if they alright and whether they missed him. At least part of every night was dedicated to trying to guess the password for the Wireless network broadcast of the underground resistance to try and get news of them but so far none of Weasley efforts had borne fruit. 

_The Dark Lord was coming.   
Where was his wand? He couldn’t find his wand.  
His legs wouldn’t work.  
The snake curled around him, squeezing, biting._

“No, no…get off me, no!”

“Malfoy!” Potter’s voice finally dragged him out of the nightmare. Seeing that Draco was now awake Potter moved back, dropping his hand from Draco’s shoulder where he had been trying to shake him awake.

Draco sat up, breathing hard and looked around. The room was dark except for the tip of Potter’s wand which illuminated the other boy’s face in eerie shadows. “You’re okay.” Potter said quietly. “It’s not real.”

“Felt pretty real.” Draco said shakily, standing up and setting about straightening out his twisted sheets. “What time is it?”

“About three, I think. It’s my turn for the watch.” Potter hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I could use some company if you aren’t going back to sleep.”

Draco recognised the invitation for what it was and gave Potter a small smile. “Alright then.”

They sat shoulder to shoulder, mugs of hot cocoa in hand at the entrance to the tent with wands beside them.

“Was it about Him?” Potter said quietly.

Draco didn’t need to ask who Potter meant. “Yeah.”

Potter put his mug down and hugged his knees to his chest. “I’ve had a few like that. Woke the entire dormitory up in fifth year.”

Draco shook his head and smiled to himself. “Bet Weasley loved that. Maybe that’s why he’s gone off to kip in with Granger.”

Potter gave him a smile back. “Maybe.” 

They didn’t say much after that. It was good to have someone else to sit with even if he didn’t really know what else he wanted to say or how to say it. The night was very still and very cold in a way that felt almost cleansing. Overhead the night sky was bright with stars. 

“I’ve been thinking about something a lot lately.” Potter said suddenly, shattering the peaceful contemplation they had shared. “About how small things can make such a difference. Like when we first met.”

Draco felt his insides squirm with embarrassment at that particular memory. “Don’t remind me, Potter.”

Potter turned and gave him a curious, searching look. “What do you think would have happened if I’d, I dunno, said yes to your offer?”

“I don’t know. My Dad would have been pretty happy. He’d probably have had you over in the Summer to see if you were really a feared Dark Lord. He always hated that I hated you.”

Potter gave him a surprised look. “Really?”

Draco shrugged, gripping the mug tightly for the last traces of warmth. “Especially after the Parseltongue thing. He was convinced I’d got myself on the wrong side of the new Dark Lord. Funny how I managed that anyway, isn’t it?”

“If you have a particularly twisted sense of humour.”

“With my family history, Potter, how could I have be anything other than twisted?” Draco shifted on the cold ground, his legs already feeling stiff.

“People don’t have to be what their family are.” The other boy gave him a sudden wicked grin. “You could have been the first Malfoy in Hufflepuff.”

The laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Now that is a low blow, Potter. How would you feel if I suggested you could be in Slytherin?”

“I nearly was.” 

Draco stared at Potter in open disbelief. “No, you weren’t.”

“Yup, had to argue with the Hat to avoid following you. I swear on my Gryffindor honour.” 

Draco looked at Potter intently for any glimmer of humour. It had to be a joke. Potter in Slytherin? Draco couldn’t think of a more ridiculous idea. He was the absolute representation of Gryffindor House in all it’s Red and Gold idiocy. “I think the lack of sleep is getting to you, Potter.” He said finally. “I can make us another hot drink if you like. Then I think I might try and get a bit more sleep.”

*

Draco allowed himself a calming draught later that morning when he woke and spent the day with Granger going through more books for clues about Horcruxes. They had worked right through and had finally stopped for food when Weasley gave a sudden shout of excitement.

“I found it…I found the password!”

Weasley pointed his wand at the radio and the Wizard speaking became suddenly louder. “…due to a number of house-calls in our area from those charming Death Eaters.”

“Well this is the first time in my life I’ve ever been glad to hear any commentary by Lee Jordan,” Draco muttered before being shushed forcefully by Weasley.

“We’ll miss it…listen…”

“…and the Daily Prophet don’t think it important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.” Draco felt a sudden cold prickle down the length of his spine. “A Goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-Born Dean Thomas and a second Goblin…”

Potter looked up at him sharply. “Your Uncle…Ron can’t you turn it off?”

“We need to hear the password.” Even Weasley looked a little guilty. 

Draco ignored them and instead stood and walked to the tent entrance. Ted Tonks had spent his entire life helping anyone who needed it whether they deserved it or not. He hadn’t deserved any of this. And Dean, what if he was dead too? Dean hadn’t a chance to live yet. Was everyone he got close to going to end up dead? Maybe he should just leave Potter, Granger and Weasley before he got them killed too.

“Draco?” That was Granger. Since when had she and him been on first name terms.

“Just a bit hot by the fire.” He said distantly, not wanting to turn back and look her in the face. “Go back and listen.”

Draco heard snippets of the rest of the radio interview but couldn’t make them stick in his brain long enough to process them. All he could think of was how on earth Aunt Andromeda was going to manage now.  
The sudden sound of raised voices at last tugged his attention back to the tent where Potter was again pacing. It was good to see him passionate again over something at least.

“Come on, Hermione,” Potter demanded, “why are you so determined not to admit that Vol-“ Granger’s shout of warning wasn’t enough to stop him. “demort’s after the Elder Wand.”

There was a sudden loud crack right outside the tent. Potter had spoken the name. The charms had fallen. 

“The name’s Taboo,” Weasley bellowed. “Malfoy, get the charms back up.”

Draco pulled his wand out, all grief pushed aside by the urgency of their situation. On the table the Sneakoscope began to spin and whine in alarm but it was too late. They could already hear voices coming nearer and nearer. 

“Snatchers.” He and Weasley had both spoken at the same moment.

Draco’s eyes met Weasley’s in one horrified moment of absolute agreement and then there was another click and complete darkness as the deluminator sucked the light out of the room. Behind him Draco heard the sharp snap of a jinx and Potter’s yell of pain. A harsh barking voice that sent cold ice down his spine could be heard through the doorway, ordering them out of there. 

Draco reached for Granger’s hand, squeezed once and then let her go.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Greyback” he drawled in his best impression of his Father, “but you’re interrupting the Dark Lord’s work. Come on Mudblood,” he shoved Granger forward hard and was enormously gratified when Weasley obliged with a string of abuse directed at him. Potter came out last, his face looking swollen and disfigured.

“It’s the Malfoy boy.” A thin, rat-like Wizard was peering at him suspiciously through watery eyes. “He’s on the list.”

“Of course, I’m on the list,” Draco snapped, “how else am I supposed to go undercover?”

Weasley, Potter and Granger were all corralled unceremoniously off to one side where the rat-like Wizard and his two friends could be heard interrogating them. Greyback remained staring insolently at Draco.

“Undercover? Am I supposed to believe that?” Greyback sneered, displaying a full mouth of yellow teeth. Draco focused all his attention onto projecting an air of arrogant certainty and after a few seconds Greyback broke eye contact. “I suppose you won’t mind coming back to the Manor with us, then will you?”

Home? Draco’s stomach twisted with nerves. No, he corrected himself, not home, Not anymore. If the situation wasn’t so desperately serious, he’d have laughed. Here he was with Harry Potter at his mercy and ready to deliver to the Dark Lord, the one thing that might actually buy him his life back, and he didn’t want to do it.

Draco was spared having to think up a reply to Greyback’s question when the thin Wizard reappeared, holding up a copy of the Prophet.

“Ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet! She said she was Penelope Clearwater.”

The Wizard thrust the paper into Greyback’s hands. The page he had open bore a photo that was unmistakably Hermione Granger, complete with caption and information on the reward for capture. 

“Known to be travelling with Harry Potter?” Greyback murmured. “Well isn’t that interesting.”

Draco’s heart was beating so hard he wondered how it hadn’t burst. He was the only one of them who still had a wand. If he acted quickly then perhaps he could stun the Snatchers as Weasley had and somehow escape. But if he failed then they would all die.

Greyback leered at Granger. “You know what girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you.”

“It isn’t,” she burst out. “It isn’t me!”

Draco forced himself to look away as if Granger’s obvious terror was nothing to him. One of the Wizards, Scabior, was gleefully examining Gryffindor’s sword.

“Give me that,” Draco demanded. “That sword is the property of the Dark Lord.”

The Wizard handed it over looking surly just as Greyback rounded on Draco again. “If this is Granger then that makes him…” and at that Greyback aimed a vicious kick at Potter’s ribs that sent him boneless and gasping to the floor, “Harry Potter. You know what we are to do if we capture Harry Potter. Why haven’t you done it?”

“Again, I don’t see why I should have to explain myself to you, Greyback.” Draco sneered.

Greyback spat at Draco’s feet in a calculated insult. “The Manor it is then. And don’t think you’ll be running off without us, let’s see what your Aunt makes of the sight of you shall we?”


	17. Chapter 17

It looked so ordinary, the same hedges, the same smell of flowers on the night air. In another world he might have been coming home for the Easter Holidays of his 7th year about now. He strode confidently ahead, still thinking frantically about what he was going to do. If the Dark Lord was in residence then his feeble lie would crumble in seconds.

At the touch of his Mark the gates faded into smoke. Greyback grunted as if surprised.

Ahead of them the front door burst open and Draco’s heart gave a great leap as he heard his Mother cry out in surprise. 

“Bella, it’s Draco. He’s here…”

“And Fenrir Greyback,” the Werewolf’s long strides had caught him up to Draco and he hauled Potter up by the back of his shirt like he was a trophy. “We’ve caught Harry Potter.”

“Potter?” That was the voice of his Aunt Bellatrix, “Cissy what is it? You said Draco…but oh…”

As they moved into the brightly lit entrance hall Draco caught the gleam of triumph on his Aunt Bellatrix’s face in the moments before he was swept up in his Mother’s arms. It felt like taking a breath after a long time underwater to be held like this.

“Draco, oh my son…you’re alive. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Leave the boy,” Aunt Bellatrix’s tone was hard with suspicion and Narcissa Malfoy moved back as if she had been slapped. “Greyback, give your report.”

“We came upon them in the Forest of Dean, Madame Lestrange. They had used the Name. The Malfoy boy was with them. He says he has orders from the Dark Lord himself.”

“Did he?” his Aunt’s voice cracked like a whip. “Well we shall see – wait, Draco…that sword? Where did you get it?”

Draco caught the urgency in her voice and shrugged as if the question was nothing. “It was with them when I came upon them in the woods.” 

Bellatrix stalked the width of the hallway and seized it from his hands. “No, no it can’t be…my vault. You swear that you don’t know how they got it?”

“Enough with the sword, lady,” the rat like Wizard whined. “You can have it if you care so much. Call Him. We want the reward for Potter.”

“NO!” There was series of ear popping cracks and the after image of lightning burned into the back of his retina. Draco blinked fiercely to clear his vision and looked down to see Greyback and the other Wizards who had brought them to the Manor lying unconscious on the floor. 

“There,” Bellatrix sighed as if she’d just dealt with some troublesome insect. “Now we have the time we need. Pettigrew!”

The small man who Draco recognized as the Dark Lord’s personal manservant seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Madame Lestrange,” he began and then seeing Draco, the three prisoners and the unconscious Wizards he gave a little whimper. “The youngest Malfoy has returned home! And he has brought us Potter. The Dark Lord will want to know at once.”

“I will be the one to summon the Dark Lord.” Bellatrix snapped, gesturing to the Potter and Weasley. “Take these two and put them with the rest in the dungeons. Then return to me.”

Pettigrew swallowed nervously but moved to obey. “What about the girl?”

“She is said to be a resourceful and clever little bitch,” Bellatrix sneered. “Let us see if she can’t tell us how she came to lay her filthy hands on my treasures.”

Granger looked terrified and her searching, pleading gaze found Draco’s own even as Weasley was dragged away begging to be questioned in her place. Draco set his jaw at the look of betrayal in her eyes as he turned away and felt his mother’s hand on his arm. 

“Come away,” she murmured. “You look so cold and tired. Come sit by the fire and we’ll get you ready to present to the Dark Lord. He will surely spare you now you have brought him Potter. All the rest before this won’t matter.”

“No Cissy,” Bellatrix’s voice was icy and calm. “Don’t be so quick to trust him. There was no mission. He abandoned our Master.”

“He’s my son,” Narcissa said fiercely. “And he’s come home.”

Bellatrix ignored her sister and turned a leering smile on Draco. “Let’s see just how loyal you are; you will help me question the Mudblood whore. Do this and I may speak in your defence to the Dark Lord.”

A sense of hopeless despair crashed over Draco as he followed his Aunt, who stalked her way into the main hall and threw Granger down to the floor. There was no way out of this. Potter was captured and would surely be killed. Weasley’s life could be held over his family for their cooperation and Granger well…there were certainly worse fates than death.

If he was going to become the person who could survive in this world then he needed time to steel himself. He sent a hex at Granger that narrowly missed and then sighed as if bored by the scream of fear he drew from her. “How am I supposed to question her if I don’t know what to ask?”

“That sword came from my vault.” Bellatrix said shortly. “There are certain…certain secrets I have been entrusted with. If they know of them…we shall all perish if he finds out I have failed him.”

“We haven’t been near your vault,” Granger yelled, already trying to get to her feet. 

Bellatrix whirled on her looking almost deranged. “You liar, you will tell me how you stole it. Crucio!”

No human being should have been able to make the sound that ripped from Granger’s throat as the curse took hold. Until that moment Draco had been paralyzed by fear and indecision; torn between accepting the price he might have to pay for the chance of a comfortable life with a place of honour and the knowledge that this meant suffering and death for those who had risked their lives for him. Now there wasn’t any more debate to be had.

He aimed the stunner straight at his Aunt’s back and with no expectation of his attack she had been unprepared and dropped in a dead faint.

“They’ll be in the cellars,” he said urgently, picking up his Aunt’s wand and pressing it into Granger’s shaking hand. “Can you stand?”

“Yes,” she took his offered hand anyway and he hauled her upright as her legs threatened to fold up under her. “Or I will be able to soon.”

“We can’t wait for that. Put your arm around my waist and let’s move.”

He had no idea how he was going to open the door to the cellars but reasoned that between him and Granger they’d be able to find a way around the jinxed lock. There was a yell of shock from the hall behind them and for one awful second, he thought he would see Bellatrix pursuing in all her dark fury. 

Granger staggered against him as he turned to see his Mother striding towards him. “Draco! No. What is this? You can’t do this.”

“Mum please,” out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger raise her wand. “No, Granger let me talk to her. Mum, you can come with us. They took me in, they’ll take you too.”

His Mum’s face was a mask of frozen grief. “I lost Lucius, I thought I’d lost you too…don’t do this.”

“You don’t have to lose me.” He said desperately. “You can come with us.”

“With Mudbloods and filth.” She sneered at Granger. “I’d rather die than degrade myself so. Let go of the Mudblood bitch, Draco, the Dark Lord will be here soon.”

A wave of icy fear crashed through him. “No – he hasn’t been summoned.”

“I did it.” Narcissa drew herself up. “I thought the Mudblood had attacked you. They said you were a coward but I never suspected you had fallen so low.”

“He’ll kill us all.” Draco yelled in desperation. “Don’t you see? Don’t you care?”

“Draco,” Granger’s voice came low and urgent. “Come on we have to get to Harry before it’s too late.”

“I will not let you.” His Mum moved to block their way. 

“Move, Mum.” Draco said tightly. “Move or I’ll hex you.”

“I’m your Mother.” She spat. “You wouldn’t -”

“Petrificus Totalus.” Draco almost sobbed the spell but it held and his Mother dropped helpless to the ground. He bent as he passed, taking her wand from her stiffened hands. “I love you, Mum.”

Granger was steadier now and caught hold of his arm. “Which way to the cellars.” Draco straightened up and looked around. He didn’t have any time to think about his Mum anymore. 

“Down here.” 

They hadn’t gone another fifty paces before there was an outraged yell. “Hermione!” Weasley’s red hair was all Draco saw as a body barrelled into him and started raining punches down before Draco could so much as speak a word. “You bastard double-crossing traitor.”

“Ron, Ron stop, Malfoy helped us.” This time it was Granger helping him up as he pinched his nose to stop the blood and followed after her as she continued to question Weasley “How did you get out of the cellar?”  
“Dobby,” Weasley said shortly, “come on, it’s this way. Harry says he can feel Him coming.”

“The House Elf?” Draco spat blood on the floor as Granger dragged him forwards down the steps to the cellars. “What did he do? Polish the door until it opened?”

“Shut up Malfoy and move.”

“Did you find her?” Potter looked sick and was clutching at his forehead. “We don’t have much time.” He seemed to look up and finally focus on Draco’s face. “Malfoy? Hermione, didn’t he just…?”

Granger shook her head, dismissing the question. “It’s okay Harry, trust me.” 

In the centre of the room stood the familiar form of Dobby the House Elf. He threw Draco a very suspicious look indeed. “Are we helping the Master Malfoy boy, Harry Potter?”

“Yes,” Potter said urgently. “All of us, Dobby, and quickly.”

“What-” Draco began but he never finished the sentence, his hand was seized by the house elf’s small bony one and they disappeared into nothingness.

*

The sound of the sea crashing against the rocks was the first thing he heard and then the surprised yell of a man who sounded not afraid but happy. Draco’s nose was bleeding again and the coppery taste made him want to retch.

“Dobby, you’re brilliant!” Potter picked up the little elf and spun him around with a laugh of pure elation. Draco knew that feeling, it was how he’d felt that time Granger had saved his life the first time. 

“Here,” a woman with beautiful silvery hair took hold of his elbow and led him inside the house, a little cottage set on the cliffside. Once inside she waved her wand over the front of his face and the bleeding stopped immediately, the pain fading nearly as swiftly. 

“Thank you.” He said stiffly, now the pain from his nose was gone he was surprised to recognise Fleur Delacour. “Where are we?”

Before Fleur could answer Weasley came barging into the room looking angrier than Draco had ever seen him. “Why are you helping him? He’s nothing but a scumbag who switches sides at the drop of a hat.”

“Weasley,” Draco said as calmly as he could, feeling his rage and fear boiling just below the surface. “Kindly fuck off before I do something I regret.”

“You only helped us because you want to save your worthless neck and then turned tail the second you got a chance.” Weasley was scarlet in the face and yelling. “Why didn’t you stay back there with your inbred Mother and the rest of your loser family? Maybe if we’re lucky then You-Know-Who might off a few more of them before this is over.”

“Pulto.” Draco snapped, casting the curse in a moment of blind anger.

Weasley was thrown backwards with impressive force and crashed into a shelf, breaking it and spilling the ornaments and books onto the floor. Draco was sure he’d have got another curseF in if his wand hadn’t flown out of his hand before he could do it. 

“Ron!” It was Potter. “Ron, stop it.”

“Me? I didn’t do anything. He cursed me Harry, didn’t you see?”

Granger had hold of Weasley who was still half struggling against her and Potter, protector of misfits and broken things, was standing in front of Draco. 

“I said calm down.” Potter said again. “Take a walk.”

Weasley looked for a few seconds like he wanted to argue and then he turned on his heel and stalked out the door. Granger gave Draco a strange look as if she wanted to say something important and then turned to hurry after Weasley.

“Malfoy,” Potter began and then stopped just as quickly when Draco cut him off. 

“Just leave me alone, Potter.”

Potter left, leaving only Draco and Fleur in the room. Draco bent and picked up his wand where Potter had thrown it down.

“I’m sorry for the shelf.” Draco said shortly. “Can I repair it?”

Fleur gave a haughty sniff. “There is no need.” After another awkward pause she added. “There is some food for you all. In the kitchen.”

Draco didn’t want to eat and he didn’t want to see anyone else. He made his way out into the garden and found a narrow patch of grass between the end of the wall and the cliff edge that looked like it would give him enough concealment from anyone trying to peer out and spy on him. 

For the first time in his life he found himself wanting to cry but no tears would come. It was one thing to lose a parent with no warning and no chance to say goodbye. It was quite another to lose them the way that he’d just lost his Mum. He had left her there. If the Dark Lord killed her now then he was the one responsible.

“You’re Draco Malfoy.”

Unbidden and most definitely uninvited a skinny girl with straggly hair and large pale blue eyes stepped over the wall and sat down beside him.

“What?” He muttered, hating how defeated he sounded.

“You used to be a Death Eater but you’re not anymore. You helped Harry Potter and his friends rescue us all from the Manor. Hermione Granger says that you were very brave.”

The girl spoke in a sing song sort of way that should have sounded mocking but wasn’t. Almost in spite of himself Draco felt his curiosity rising. “I’m sorry but who are you?”

“I’m Luna Lovegood.” She smiled as if this in of itself was sufficient. “It is nice to meet you, Draco Malfoy.”

“You sound like a House Elf.” He retorted, wondering when Luna would be finished narrating his life to him and go away.

Luna looked like she was giving this serious consideration. “Oh, I just like to be clear that I’m speaking to you and not any of the Nargles.”

“Well go and speak to them if you like. I’d rather be on my own right now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Luna said absently. “But not to worry, I won’t talk if you don’t want me to.”

True to her word, Luna didn’t talk and stayed with him as a silent supportive presence until Bill Weasley came to find them and tell them that his wife had organised the sleeping arrangements. Bill Weasley came to find them and tell them that his wife had organised the sleeping arrangements. The older man had a disfiguring series of scars that twisted and wound themselves around his features. Draco knew the sorts of wounds that might cause scars like that but he’d never seen them on a living body. Luna slipped away quietly but Draco hung back, wondering if he could manage to say what he wanted to say.

“Your face…”

“Werewolf attack. I was at Hogwarts the day Dumbledore was murdered.”

“I-I know.” Draco stammered.

It was hard to tell what Bill Weasley was thinking until he spoke and even then his voice was oddly calm. “You’re the one who let them in, aren’t you…the Malfoy kid.”

Draco had to force the admission out. “Yes. I’m…s-”

“Don’t apologise to me. I don’t want to hear it.” Bill said shortly. “Nothing you say will make any difference. It’s done. Harry says you can be trusted so it’s on his word and only his word that you’re still under my roof. Understand?”

Draco felt his face burn with shame and stared hard at the floor as he nodded.

“Look at me.” Bill said in that same disturbingly calm voice. “You might at least have the decency to do that.”

Draco forced himself to look up. Every excuse in his head howling for a chance to be said: I was just a kid. I was stupid. I was arrogant. None of them mattered when it really came down to it. This wasn’t some silly schoolboy spat like he’d had with Ron Weasley. He, Draco, had caused real harm to this man and now was being forced to quite literally face it down.

Bill held his gaze for an excruciating few seconds more and then nodded. “Get in the house.”

Draco went upstairs first to give himself a few more seconds before he'd have to face the others. There wasn’t enough room for him and Ron to be able to stay away from one another and Draco was glad to find that the younger Weasley was nowhere to be found when he entered the small room.

He was surprised when he felt the hard bump of something solid against his calf as he flopped down onto the mattress of the bottom bunk. He thought that he had left everything in the tent when they’d been taken to the Manor.

It was Helga’s Hope, the paint chipped off one smooth curve of the engine but otherwise completely undamaged. Draco felt another hard lump of pain bloom in his chest. In all the terror of the ordeal and the Manor and the grief at having to leave his Mother he hadn’t even had time to think about the news of Ted’s death. 

No, not death, murder. He stared blankly at the train wondering why it was that he couldn’t get the pain and sadness inside him to work its way out. Was there just too much of it now?

“Malfoy,” It was Weasley, his lanky frame bent awkwardly under the low doorframe. “Fleur’s got supper ready.”

Draco slipped the model back into his pocket, avoiding looking into Weasley’s face. “Right.” 

“And err…” Weasley looked suddenly awkward. “Look, I was a real dick to you earlier. About your Mum. Hermione filled me in on what happened.”

Draco could feel the tension building in his shoulders as Weasley stayed where he was, blocking Draco’s exit. “Yeah, you were.”

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry.” Weasley blustered. “At least I can do that rather than just showing up and expecting everyone to just forget what a wanker I was for the last six years.”

“Well you clearly haven’t forgotten, have you Weasley?” Draco said steadily. “Now, are you going to let me past or what?”

Weasley gave him a foul look and stepped out of the doorway. Draco reasoned that even Weasley wouldn’t try to hex him in the back, honour being something he claimed to value to highly, and so stomped down the stairs ahead of him into the kitchen. Around the table sat the Fleur and Bill Weasley, Potter, Granger, Luna and – his heart gave a great leap of relief.

“Draco!” Dean Thomas’ excited voice pierced his introspection just as the other boy jumped up from the table, upsetting his bowl of soup and giving Draco an unceremonious, squeezing hug. “Where have you been? I went up to the room earlier and you weren’t there.”

Draco glanced quickly over at Luna who was staring dreamily into her soup bowl, seemingly oblivious. “I just needed to think.” He felt his throat tighten as he took in Dean’s face, the other boy was, like Draco himself, thinner and looked even more ragged than the last time Draco had seen him but he was very much alive. “I thought you were dead.”

“I nearly was.” 

Luna moved aside for Draco and he squeezed into the vacant space and took a bowl of hot soup, breaking his slice of bread into it and listening to the conversation.

“What happened?” Draco said suddenly. “Were you with Uncle Ted when…”

Dean nodded, a dark look passing over his eyes. “It was pretty awful. If it hadn’t been for Ted and Dirk I’d have been gone for sure. They gave me time to try and escape. I just couldn’t…well the Snatchers picked me up trying to get away.”

“Go on, Dean.” Potter said quietly. “Tell the rest.”

Draco could see the fight as Dean described it, Ted would have hated to fight but he’d have done it gladly to help others and obviously that had saved Dean’s life.

“I think they- the Snatchers, would have let them live,” Dean finished quietly, “but they wouldn’t give up. They didn’t want to be captured.”

“Ted worried that they’d use him to control my Aunt and get secrets about the Order.” Draco said into the silence that followed. “She is Bellatrix Lestrange’s sister and my cousin is in the Order. The Dark Lord would know she might have secrets and wouldn’t hesitate to use Ted to break them open.”

All of them, even Weasley, looked grimly accepting at that assessment. Draco sighed and turned back to his meal. He half listened as Luna Lovegood relayed the experience of Hogwarts under the new regime. It was strange to think of Professor Snape as the Headmaster and the idea of the Carrows being in control of anything sent a frisson of terror through him. 

“What are you going to do, Harry?” Dean asked. “I mean you’ve got a plan, haven’t you? You talked to Griphook for ages. Was it about that Sword he’s got now?”

Potter’s gaze flicked around the table, meeting Weasley, Granger and Draco’s own eyes in turn. “Sort of.”

“I’ll help.” Dean said immediately, once again proving to Draco that Dean was a better person than he was. “I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

“We’ll see.” Potter said, his manner guarded. “But honestly, Dean, you’re more likely to get yourself killed coming with us.”

After supper Potter caught Draco by the arm as he went to leave. “Come up to mine and Dean’s room, we need to catch you up.”

They crammed themselves into the tiny bedroom, shoulder to shoulder and bent over to fit under the sloping ceiling. Quickly and concisely, Potter filled Draco in on the rest of the information, who they had rescued and what had transpired since they’d all arrived at the cottage.

“I saw where the Horcruxes are hidden.” Potter finished. “You-Know-Who is scared and angry, the connection opened back up. The Sword was supposed to be hidden away with them. He was thinking about where they are, like he wanted to check on them. One is in Gringotts and the other is at Hogwarts.”

He could see the worry and faint disgust on Weasley’s face as they shared a brief look at the point where Potter relayed how the Dark Lord had broken into Dumbledore’s tomb.

“Okay,” Draco sighed. “So, the Dark Lord has an unbeatable wand, the Goblin has the sword and your wand is broken. And you call this progress?”

“But the Horcrux is at Gringotts and we think we know where.”

“The Lestrange Vault.” He said quickly. “My Aunt – Bellatrix – thinks you’ve already been there. If the Horcrux is anywhere it will be there.”

Potter nodded eagerly. “Can you get us in there?”

“No,” Draco had to stop himself from actually laughing at that idea. “Why do you think I would be able to?”

“Well, you’re – you know…. pure-blooded.” Potter said awkwardly.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. “So is Weasley and I’ll wager you didn’t ask him. But no, just because she’s my Aunt doesn’t mean I’d ever have access to her vault, even if I could just swan in there and ask, they’d need me to have her key or her wand.”

“But we’ve got her wand,” Granger cut in excitedly. “You took if from her when you stunned her and gave it to me. Ollivander confirmed it and it’s probably loyal to you now.”

Draco felt his skin heat with embarrassment as the other three, even Weasley, suddenly beamed at him as if he’d produced the Horcrux for them right then and there. 

“I just wanted you armed,” he said awkwardly. “It’s not like I knew.”

“Alright,” Potter said decisively. “Now we just need to convince Griphook to give us the sword.”

“Tomorrow, Harry.” Weasley said firmly. “We all need to rest. Hermione’s had an awful day.”

*

Draco found his way back to his narrow bed and climbed into it, relieved when it was Dean and not Weasley who appeared in the doorway and took the other bunk.

“I figured you and Ron would both appreciate it if I offered to swap.” Dean’s smile faltered and he sat down on the edge of Draco’s bunk. “I’m so sorry about Ted.”

Draco sat up to make more room for Dean and tried to think of what he could say to try and put into words what he was feeling. He’d only known his Uncle for a couple of months. It seemed ridiculous to feel this overwhelmed by such a brief acquaintance. 

“We waited an extra day for you when you didn’t come back.” Dean continued quietly. “He wanted to go to Godric’s Hollow to look for you.”

“I was gone by then.” Draco shrugged. “I wish I’d had the guts to try and come back. I didn’t want to be on my own. Too much of a coward I suppose.”

Dean patted his shoulder comfortingly. “I dunno, mate. The way Hermione tells it you’re anything but a coward. Ted would have been proud of you.”

Draco shook his head. “I did what I had to do. They’d have murdered her. Thanks though, it is really good to see you again.”

“You too, mate.” Dean smiled again, standing up and climbing up into his own bunk. “You too.”

Happy reunion with Dean aside Draco couldn't sleep for thinking about Ted and what it must be like for his Aunt Andromeda right now. She'd know, she'd have to know; Tonks and Lupin would have told her. He wanted to go to her and tell he was sorry and. give her a hug but he was a bigger danger to her now than her husband ever would have been. 

Whichever way he turned in the narrow bunk bed the lump of unshed tears in his chest sat hard and heavy over his heart. Eventually, giving up on the idea of sleep, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, pulling his cloak around himself and making his way quietly outside back into the garden.

He sat on the low stone wall where he and Luna had met earlier that afternoon, pale moonlight drifting through gaps in the cloud and reflecting off the restless sea below them. Finally, away from the noise and tension of the day he felt like it would be safe to let his guard down a little. He pulled Helga’s Hope out of his pocket and turned it over and over in his hands, letting the tears fall as quietly as he could.

There was a creak of an opening door and the flair of light that dimmed as quickly as it had started. "Draco?"

"Hello Granger," he said with as much dignity as he could summon. "Can't sleep either?"

She shook her head. "Saw someone was out here and thought I could use the company.” She gave him a searching look. “I'm not going to bother asking you if you're okay."

Draco rubbed his palms tiredly over his eyes. "I'll cope." He glanced down once more at the model in his hand and then slipped it into the pocket of his cloak. "I’m not the only one to lose someone in this war."

"Doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel the loss." She said quietly. " Tell me about him. What was he like?"

An image of Ted Tonks with his kind smile swam to the front of Draco's mind. There were so many things he could say to that question. "Good." He said eventually, feeling the enormous inadequacy of the word, "he was a good person. And kinder to me than I deserved."

Granger was quiet for a long time. "You don't have to earn good treatment or kindness from people."

"Yes, I do." He said blankly. "I've done a lot of bad things. Ted could see past that though. Not everyone will be so willing." He couldn't help but glance back towards the house where Potter and Weasley slept soundly inside.

She followed his gaze and snorted, shaking her head. "Ron is never going to like you, Draco. Don't look to him to decide how worthwhile you are otherwise you might as well go and jump in a lake. You two are just too similar."

Draco smiled in spite of himself. "You'd better not tell him that or you'll be in the lake right alongside me."

"I can think of worse places to be." She looked suddenly solemn. “I should have said thank you earlier, for what you did. You saved my life.”

Draco shook his head. “Potter would have come for you.”

“Your Mum…” Granger fell silent and then looked at him again with that now familiar intensity. “That took incredible courage. I can’t imagine having to do something like that to my parents.”

“I’m not brave, Granger, I’m just…”

“A good person, when you let yourself be anyway and don’t get side-tracked trying to peacock around and annoy Ron. You don’t have to be like Harry to be brave. You can just be yourself.”

Draco sighed. “Why are you nice to me? I was an absolute bastard to you for years. I…I hated people like you.”

She shrugged. “I believe that people can change and, well, I’ve seen you change.”

“I’m sorry you know, for all of it.”

Granger didn’t reply to that, but then what would he expect her to say. ‘Oh, that’s okay off you go home now’. It was a quite unexpectedly nice surprise then when she reached across and slipped her arm around his shoulders. As close as they’d been over the last few months, at least in proximity, she’d almost never touched him. None of them had. It felt like some long unacknowledged barrier had at last begun to break.

He stayed quite still as if any sudden movement might scare her away and destroy the moment. When she moved some minutes later, he expected her to make her excuses and leave but she didn’t, instead flicking her wand to produce a jar of flames that exuded a steady warmth. It was another long few minutes before she spoke again.

“What did make you change your mind?” He felt her shift against him as she turned to look at him. “About turning against You-Know-Who? Harry and me have obvious reasons. Ron has me and his whole family but you… Why did you change?”

“I got offered a way out.” He said simply. “I was scared and I took it.”

Granger frowned. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about fighting him. You nearly died saving us that first time. And at the Manor you could have handed us over.”

“I wouldn’t have.” He said quickly. “I know I could have but I would never have done it.” On impulse he pulled the train out of his pocket and held it up. “If you want to know what really did it then here it’s this.”

Granger was smiling but there was no mockery in it. “Is that a toy train?”

“It belonged to Uncle Ted. He – he’s the first Muggleborn I ever really talked to, put up with my stupid questions and being an idiot about things. He had a trainset and I helped him with it sometimes. He gave this to me as, well, as a sort of keepsake I suppose.”

“Trains?” Granger shook her head. “You are absolutely full of surprises, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco echoed her smile. “A man has to have some mystery about him, Granger.”

“Could you do something for me?” She looked suddenly hesitant.

“Like what?”

“Have a go at calling me Hermione. I feel like we can call ourselves sort of friends now and none of my friends call me Granger.”

“I think I can do that.” Draco paused, “thank you for coming out here. Don’t – don’t tell Weasley about the train.”

“Promise I won’t.’ Hermione said, giving his shoulder another squeeze and stood up. “I think I might try for more sleep now. Are you going to be okay out here by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Draco stood too and scrubbed his palms over his eyes. “yeah but I’m going to come in too.”


	18. Chapter 18

Over the following few days Draco felt some of the blankness that had plagued him over the last few weeks start to lift. Having a proper bed and meals certainly helped. He still slunk around the edges of any room containing Bill or Ron Weasley but having Dean to talk to and knowing that Hermione Granger at least respected him now made the Weasleys easier to deal with. He was able to help out with the Goblin and Mr Ollivander’s potions, brewing up a strengthening solution that even Fleur Weasley seemed impressed by. 

“Malfoy.” Draco spun around at the sound of Bill Weasley’s voice and he found himself automatically tensing ready for whatever verbal barbs were about to come his way. “You’ve been studying Healing?”

“Yes,” Draco replied warily, still not quite able to look Bill in the face knowing that he was responsible for the scars it bore. “I mean, mostly only basic stuff but Uncle Ted was teaching me.”

“We’ve got Healers in the Order, at my Aunt’s House.” Bill’s voice sounded hesitant even if his expression was impossible to read. “But we need all the help we can get. Ron says you’re competent at least.”

Draco tried to keep his scepticism to himself. Ron Weasley had probably said that to try and get Draco to leave the three of them alone and let them get on with the quest he’d found himself accidentally attached to.

“I really have only done basic spells. I’m not a qualified Healer. I haven’t even got any N.E.W.Ts let alone formal higher training.”

“People are dying, Malfoy. We’ll take anyone with any aptitude and skill. And the way Ron tells it you never wanted to be involved in this thing he’s doing anyway. I’m giving you a chance to do some real good for a change.”

“I – I’ll think about it.”

Bill’s voice was hard. “Well think fast. Like I said, people are dying.”

He told Dean about it later that night when they were both curled up under blankets and trying to keep out the still chilly air of early spring. Dean had been surprisingly supportive of Bill’s idea and hadn’t even tried to convince Draco to continue with the quest. Still, Dean had no idea of the true stakes they were facing and why it was so important that Potter should succeed. 

Dean would be better on the quest than Draco was. He was brave and resourceful and in Draco’s opinion would have made a rather good Slytherin if it wasn’t for his supposed blood-status. They looked after one another over the next few days. Dean had bad dreams of his own and more than once they ended up having long rambling conversations at three in the morning about what they would do once the War was over.

Football and West Ham had pride of place. After that there were the Dragon Reservations in Eastern Europe and going to see all the sites in Wizarding America. Dean was also angling for them to do Muggle things, going for a night out in London, learning to surf and driving a Muggle car ranked high there. It was nice to have those flights of fancy and imagine that there would be a better world one day.

The nightmares didn’t stop though. Well now it was more like just the Nightmare. The same one over and over again about being atop the Astronomy Tower and seeing Dumbledore falling over the edge. Except this time the Dark Lord was there, wrenching Draco’s wand from his grasp and then there was a flash of green light.

After the most recent one he lay quietly in bed, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. He kept dreaming about the Dark Lord and his wand. Something was nagging at him about it. That was why he kept having the dream. It had been this way since he started practicing Occlumency with any seriousness. All his fears and suppressed worries surfaced in his dreams.

He was on the tower. He’d disarmed Dumbledore. The Dark Lord took his wand.

He’d disarmed Dumbledore.

And Dumbledore had been Master of the Elder Wand.

Surely not. He had to be sure though. He had to know. The following day he waited until Fleur had brought back down Ollivander’s breakfast tray and then slipped quietly upstairs.

“Mr Ollivander,” he pushed open the door hesitantly, already feeling like he was intruding. “Could I disturb you? I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course, my boy, of course. Come in.” Mr Ollivander turned his pale silvery eyes to Draco’s own and patted the side of the bed. “I am very grateful for your help over these last few days. I am much improved. Now, what can I help you with?”

“I’ve got a question about Wands” Draco began. “About how you win a wand’s loyalty.”

Ollivander sat up with a little groan of discomfort. Draco helped him to arrange him pillows and the old man’s breathing grew steadier once more. “The answer to that at least is simple, to win the Wand you must defeat its current wielder.”

“Defeat though, not kill? Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to win the loyalty of my Aunt’s wand.”

“That is usually the way of it, do you have trouble with the wand? It has a temperamental nature.”

“No, it’s – it’s working fine for Harry. Is there a way you can tell if you’ve still got a Wand’s loyalty when you don’t have it? Like if you lost it?”

“Lost? Is that not your wand right there?” Ollivander’s eyes had settled on Draco’s wand where it poked out of his pocket. 

“Yes. But…it’s another one. I had a duel and – well I think I might have won the Wand but I never stopped to collect it. Is there a way to know if I still have its loyalty?”

Ollivander looked thoughtful at that. “Not by any course of action I’d recommend. You would have to duel the wand again to truly know.” 

A hot feeling of dread erupted in Draco’s stomach and seemed to seep from there right through his chest and onto his head which began to pound with a headache. “Thank you, Mr Ollivander.” He said calmly. “That was very informative.” He closed the door and leaned heavily against the wall.

He felt sick.  
Actually, no he didn’t just feel sick.

“Draco? Are you…?” Dean didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Draco pushed past him making it to the bathroom just in time to throw up his breakfast. Dean was there beside him a flash, one hand on his shoulder, the other passing him a towel. “You need me to get anyone?”

A few more dry heaves later and Draco shook his head. “No – just…no I’m okay.” If he could just get his breath then he’d be fine. He just needed a minute.

Dean folded his arms and gave him a look of disbelief that Draco’s own mother would have been proud of. “You are so not, Mate. Listen I’ll go and get Harry.”

“No…” His chest hurt and his heart was pounding. Was he having a heart attack? Why couldn’t he get his breath. “No, not him…”

“Dean?” Fucking Weasley, not now, please not right now. Draco was dimly aware of Weasley coming to stand right behind him in the small bathroom and heard his puzzled voice. “What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know mate. He came in here and threw up. Now he looks like he’s going to pass out. I think he’s sick.”

“You think he’s gonna throw up again?”

Dean and Weasley’s voices seemed to be coming from very far away, as if Draco was watching them from somewhere else altogether.

“I can’t breathe…” he gasped, the pain in his chest getting worse as he fought to suck air into his body. 

Draco let himself be helped up between Dean and Weasley, who surprisingly didn’t seem to have any smart comments to make. His legs and arms felt rubbery like they didn’t quite belong to him. They made it to the small box bedroom that Dean and Draco shared, Weasley’s long limbs crammed in on the far side with Draco and Dean between him and the door.

“Steady Malfoy,” Weasley’s hands were firm, guiding him down. “We’ll – Dean go and see if you can find Fleur or Bill…might be some curse.”

“It’s not a curse.” Commented a dreamy voice from the entrance to the bedroom. Luna Lovegood slipped past Dean and sat down beside Draco, taking his hand in her own, the firm pressure seemed to bring him back to his body a little. “It’s quite alright, really. He’s just having a panic attack.”

“He’s what?” Weasley sounded about as sympathetic as McGonagall when Draco hadn’t done his homework.

“Fu-fuck off, Weasley…” Draco managed, glad he could get those words out at least.

“Space would be nice.” Luna agreed. Ron edged himself awkwardly past them as Luna raised her wand. “Gaudium.”

The Cheering Charm didn’t do much but Draco felt the pressure in his chest lessen just a little and the terror that hand overtaken him fade to just a vague sense of dread. 

“There we are, now - I want you to follow my wand light.” Luna still sounded airy but Draco had the sense that for once all of her attention was in the same place. “Breathe in while it brightens and out while it fades.”

“I am not having a panic attack.” He said stubbornly, feeling an uncomfortable surge of embarrassment now that the other more overwhelming feelings had been dampened.

Luna didn’t say anything but simply squeezed his hand and held the lit tip of her wand up where he could see it. She breathed along with him and after a few minutes the tightness and numbness seemed to have almost gone. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Luna commented. “My Dad had them a lot just after my Mother died. That’s how I learned how to help.” She said it like she was commenting about the weather or how a particular stock portfolio was a good investment. Draco found himself wishing he could be so matter of fact about his emotions and thoughts instead of having to have them pried out of himself or burst out like this.

“You’re a legend, Luna.” Dean said enthusiastically, levering himself into the small space vacated by Ron Weasley. “You feeling okay now, mate?” This last question was addressed to Draco who nodded.

“Yeah, yeah thanks.”

“C’mon then,” Dean squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve been stuffing about with Fleur’s wireless. I think I’ve found the Muggle station for the game. Want to come and listen? You can come too Luna; I’d love to hear your commentary on Football after the Quidditch matches you did.”

Draco gave Dean a grateful smile. “Yeah I will but…listen I think I have to talk to Weasley and Hermione first. It’s important. Then I’ll be down, okay. You two go ahead.”

*

Hermione, Weasley and Potter were where the four of them usually spent their days, crammed into Potter and Weasley’s small attic room plotting how to move forward from the Cottage and get into Gringotts. All three of them turned to stare at him when he appeared in the doorway and he had the distinct feeling that they’d been talking about him.

“I’m absolutely fine,” he said before Hermione could even get the question out. “Honestly, Luna was very good and I feel stupid enough without needing to dissect it. Potter – I – I need to talk to Hermione and Weasley without you for a minute.”

“Why?” Weasley looked immediately suspicious.

Draco felt instantly irritable. “If you want to tell him afterwards Weasley you’re very welcome to do it but I’m not saying what I have to say with him here.”

“Alright then,” Potter gave him a wary look, extricated himself from his space on the bed and made his way outside into the corridor. Draco cast the Muffliato and looked back at Weasley and Hermione.

“I think I’m the Master of the Elder Wand.”

He’d expected them both to laugh uproariously at that but they didn’t. That in itself was almost as unnerving as saying the words out loud had been.

“How?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing in concentration. “We know You-Know-Who has it now. Doesn’t that mean it’s loyal to him?”

“No, I thought the same thing but I asked Mr Ollivander this morning. To be Master of the Wand you have to defeat the last wielder. The Dark Lord never defeated Dumbledore so…so he can’t be the Master of the wand.”

Weasley was already shaking his head. “But then Snape would be the one not you, since he murdered Professor Dumbledore.”

Draco fought to keep himself grounded in this place now talking to Weasley and not back on the tower in the grip of the panic and fear that had so recently overrun him. “I disarmed Dumbledore on the tower before…before Professor Snape did it. I defeated the Wand.”

Hermione sighed. “You’re worried that if Harry hears this then You-Know-Who might get a sense of it from their connection.”

“I think I’d have a panic attack too if I found that out.” Weasley said faintly. “He’ll be after you same as he’s after Harry if he finds that out. More than he is already.”

“I’m sure Draco knows that, Ron.” Hermione said patiently.

“Yeah pretty much,” Draco said grimly. “But I have an idea. Something to protect Harry – Potter - if it comes to it. Here.” He pulled out his wand and gave it to Weasley who took it with an expression of incomprehension. “When it comes down to it. Potter will need this. It’s the wand that matters, and if I surrender it to Potter it should work the same way.”

“Why are you giving it to me?” Weasley looked down at the wand in his hand still looking confused. “You could just give it to him yourself.”

“Because you’re brave enough to see this through Weasley.” Draco swallowed hard, steeling himself for the next words. “I – I don’t think I am. Not that sort of brave anyway. I’ve been talking with Bill, there’s a role for me with the Order, doing some healing, and they want me to go with Mr Ollivander when they move him. I don’t want to go to Gringotts with you all.”

“Don’t be silly, Draco. Of course, you could do it…” Hermione began, charging to his defence even against his own self-assessment.

“No, no I can’t.” Draco said forcefully. “What happens if I – If I’m in the middle of Gringotts and I panic. I might do something that gets you all killed? We don’t even have a plan to get in yet, adding me is just an extra risk. I haven’t forgotten what you said Weasley. I’ve got a lot to make up for and I can be useful in my own way.”

“What did you say to him, Ron?” Hermione said sharply, rounding on Weasley.

“Nothing!” Weasley began indignantly.

“You said I could justify what I did however I liked but I’d still hurt people and done wrong.” Hermione and Weasley both fell silent. “And you were right.”

“Okay then,” Weasley took a deep breath. “So, what do we tell, Harry?”

“That I’m not going with you all. He can think what he likes about it.”


	19. Chapter 19

Draco didn’t get to ask Potter what he thought about it. He’d tried but now that he’d laid his cards on the table the three friends seemed to close ranks on him once more and disappear into the attic bedroom to plan. Hermione had slipped him his Mother’s own wand one evening and he had had to fight back tears as he held it. At least Bill Weasley seemed less cold around him now and Dean was glad that Draco would be coming with them after all. Still, he wanted to try and at least explain.

On the last evening before he was due to depart to the Order safehouse he took his last opportunity and knocked on Potter’s door having spied Hermione and Weasley talking to Luna down in the cottage garden.

“I’m leaving in the morning. I just wanted to wish you good luck.”

“I don’t blame you.” Potter said shortly. “I mean if I could run away from this I would but…yeah.”

“I’m not running away.” Draco had to force himself not to fold his arms across his body and shrink back. “I’m trying to be useful where I can. I want him gone just as much as you do, Harry.” When the other boy continued to glare at him, he added. “Remember when you didn’t want me along at all? I’d have thought you’d be glad I decided to leave.”

Harry shrugged. “I suppose I’ve got used to you being around now.”

Draco let himself smile at that. “I suppose that’s as close as to ‘we’re friends now’ as we’re going to get, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Harry returned his smile with an edge of caution still remaining. “You’re still not going to tell me what you said to Ron and Hermione are you?”

“Weasley will tell you if you ever need to know.” Draco glanced away, took a steadying breath. “Just try and keep yourself alive.”

At that moment Weasley and Hermione came back up the stairs.

“Changed your mind, Malfoy?” Weasley muttered, looking between the two of them. 

“No,” Draco said, suddenly having a mad impulse that he felt unable to resist. “But look Weasley before you three barricade yourselves away again could I…look I’m sorry for being a shit to you for years. I was an idiot.”

“Yeah, you were.” Weasley said, in a maddening imitation of Draco’s deflection of his own sincere apology.

“Ron,” Hermione began but at a look from Weasley swiftly fell silent again.

“I accept you’re trying to change Malfoy,” Weasley said eventually. “And yeah, I’m glad for the apology but it’s going to take a bit more than that for me to say I forgive you and mean it, okay?”

“Yeah.” Draco nodded, schooling his face into a blank mask of calm. “Yeah alright then.”

It had been more than a little humiliating to finally reach the point that he felt able to say those things to Ron Weasley only to feel like nothing had changed and have his own petty reaction thrown back in his face for good measure. It felt like a stupid thing to be upset about given the terrible danger they were all still in but still, it rankled.   
He spent the evening before his departure with Mr. Ollivander out by his now habitual thinking spot behind the low rock wall looking out to the sea. Having something so vast and deep to contemplate made his own troubles seem a little more in perspective somehow. All the same he was glad when company appeared.

“I bought you your supper out here,” Hermione sat down next to him. “I thought you might want to avoid everyone for a bit.”

“Thanks,” Draco took the sandwich and smiled ruefully. “Not going back in yourself.”

Hermione shook her head, looking out at the sun setting over the ocean. “It’s nice out here.” She let the silence settle for a few more seconds and continued. “You realise that Ron’s problem is he’s started to respect you and he can’t cope with the inner conflict.”

“Yeah,” Draco sighed glancing over at her. “It’s a bit hard to deal with when you find yourself suddenly realising people you thought were a waste of space are actually amazing.”

Granger raised a mocking eyebrow and snorted. “Are you calling yourself amazing or Ron?”

“No,” he said turning to look her full in the face now. “I’m calling you amazing, because you really, really are.”

She snorted again at that as if she didn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Looking back on it later Draco wasn’t sure which of them would have been more surprised when he kissed her. He hadn’t planned to, it had just sort of happened. 

“Oh…” was the only response he got when he moved back away to look at her, trying to keep his sudden anxiety from showing on his face. For a few horrible heart-stopping seconds he thought she was about to get up and leave but then she slipped her arm around his shoulders. 

Her head was resting against his shoulder and he could feel the vibration of her words against this shoulder as she spoke. “Who’d have thought we’d end up here?”

“I’m glad we did though.”

“Ron…” she let the name trail off into the darkening sky. 

Draco really, really didn’t want to talk about Weasley at a time like this but there was no way to avoid it. “Are you and him?”

Hermione sighed. “Sort of, maybe. I love him, I think; but we need time when we’re not on the run for our lives before I know if it’ll work. You – you complicate things.”

What did that mean? It was too big a conversation to get into on the evening before they parted for what might be the last ever time. It felt easier to hide behind humour than pry that particular pearl from its oyster before it was ready.

“What can I say? It’s a natural talent.”

“Idiot.” She said it almost fondly and leaned across to kiss him, just a chaste peck on the cheek and got slowly to her feet. “Don’t die before I see you again, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

*

The next day a tall, spare looking Wizard with red hair arrived at the front door of the cottage and was embraced by Bill and Ron. He greeted Dean and Luna warmly, Mr Ollivander with gentle courtesy before turning to Draco with a now familiar look of wariness.

“Mr. Malfoy. Thank you for agreeing to help us. I’m Arthur Weasley, Ron’s Father. I believe we’ve met before briefly. I'm here to bring you to Headquarters.”

“Yes,” Draco said awkwardly. The memory of his Father’s taunting of the Wizard in front of him made Draco squirm inwardly. He took Mr Weasley’s offered hand and shook it. “How are we going to get there?”

“I shall have to take each of you by side-along Apparition and tell you the Secret once we arrive. Mr Ollivander, if you would care to come first.”

One by one the other three went ahead of him. Draco stood to one side and watched the goodbyes feeling oddly detached from everything. When his turn came, he moved forward to take hold of Mr Weasley’s arm.

“Malfoy, wait.” The sound of his son’s voice made Mr Weasley pause. Draco turned around to see Ron Weasley hurrying forward, he stopped in front of Draco and held out his hand. “Let’s call truce,” Weasley said, the faintest of smiles on his face. “Or at least agree we don’t hate each other anymore.”

“Alright, Weasley.” For the first time in his life Draco found himself sharing a genuine smile with Ron and they shook hands. “Drinks in the Three Broomsticks when this is over?”

“You pay.” Weasley clapped him on the shoulder and stepped back. 

Seconds later Draco’s next breath was in a small sunny clearing. 

“Alright then,” Mr Weasley said breezily. “If you would just look ahead of you then you will see Prewett Hall, Peaseholme Green, Upper Flagely.”

*

Prewett Hall was a sprawling 16th century Tudor Mansion that reminded Draco painfully of his own home. It looked like it too had been transformed to serve as a base of operations but the atmosphere here seemed lighter and far less oppressive than his memories of the Manor. He was led by Mr Weasley to the end of a long corridor and a large room filled with bunk beds. 

“You can put your things down here. I’ll go and find Octavius and tell him that you’re here.”

Draco barely had time to put his things down on the narrow bed that had been prepared for him before he was accosted by a grim looking Wizard in faded St Mungo’s robes, he was clean shaven with close cropped black hair and had an air of being ground down. He looked Draco over like a hawk appraising a particularly appetising mouse.

“You’re the boy Bill Weasley sent us? Malfoy?”

“Yes,” Draco began but didn’t get the chance to say anything else as the man continued talking right over him.

“There’s been an attack on Muggles in Cheshire and I don’t have anyone else I can take with me. Want some hands-on experience?” At Draco’s hesitation the man frowned. “You don’t have a problem with treating Muggles, do you?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good. Let’s go. Hold onto my bag and I’ll Apparate us.”

They hurried out the same front door Draco had just entered. On the way out to the Apparition point Draco thought he caught sight of Dean and Luna in the distance.

“My friends…”

“Time for re-unions later.”

The street where they appeared seemed absolutely normal as far as Muggle towns were concerned. It was sunny, the car was in the driveway and there were flowers growing in the garden. A witch with greying hair tucked away under a purple hat stepped out of the open front door to meet them looking grey faced and stricken.

“Another one. They took the child.”

Inside the house Draco could hear screaming. He thought he’d heard sounds like that before, a long time ago, from Amos Diggory. He let the Healer go first and walked though into a scene worse than any of his nightmares. 

It wasn’t so much the blood or the mangled body of the man lying awkwardly on the otherwise immaculate living room floor. It wasn’t even the body of the child lying beneath the man as if the last act of the man had been to protect it. It was the Muggle woman screaming and screaming for her daughter.

The Healer jabbed a finger towards the two bodies. “Check them. We are here to help,” he continued, taking half a step forward and kneel beside the Muggle woman, taking her hand in the same way that Luna had taken Draco’s hand not two days ago.

Draco ran his wand over the man’s body and found nothing. As carefully as he could he levitated the corpse away, the sight of his wand causing another fit of screaming from the woman. The child gave a whimper and Draco felt his own heart skip a beat. 

“Alive.” He said quickly. Moving more carefully than he had ever thought himself able he checked over the child’s body. “Broken femur, I think internal bleeding. I think there might be a head injury.”

“Alright,” the Healer said, radiating absolute calm as he addressed the woman. “I am going to help your daughter. Can you tell me her name?”

“Millie,” the Muggle breathed. “They – they took Ella. Where did they take her…god…” her eyes glazed over again at a twitch of the Healer’s wand. “Sit with her,” he said abruptly. “You haven’t done Pacifying Charms yet I suppose? Cheering charm will do but mostly just reassure her.”  
Nothing he had ever experienced had prepared Draco for this. He took the Healer’s place and stared up into the blank face of the Muggle feeling exposed and ill-equipped to take on the responsibility of this woman’s safety. 

“Hello,” he said, his throat feeling too small for his words. “I’m Draco and I’m here to help.”

She was squeezing his hand hard enough that it hurt but he didn’t make any move to pull away. Right now, at this moment he wasn’t the important one. 

“Ella,” she whispered. “They took her.”

He cast the cheering charm with his non-wand hand and let out a silent sigh of relief when she grew calm again. 

“What do we do now?” He murmured, glancing quickly sideways to Freya, the grey-haired witch.

Freya looked pale. “Do what we can to save the child. We can make the Muggle forget what she’s seen but her husband...the kindest thing to do is make it seem he’s disappeared and taken the child with him.”

“Why did they do this? What do these Muggles have to do with us?”

“Their child was probably Muggleborn. This isn’t the first one we’ve had to do and it won’t be the last.”

For the first time Draco felt a surge of genuine disgust at what the Death Eaters were doing in the name of the Dark Lord. In another life he could have been the one who had murdered this woman’s husband and kidnapped her child. It had been a matter of a few seconds that divided the two paths he could have taken. That was too narrow a knife-edge.

He gave the Muggle woman’s hand a squeeze that he hoped was comforting and felt her grip tighten in return. 

Over the next half an hour Draco helped to clean up the horror of the blood and other damage to the home. He observed carefully as the Muggles, now mostly restored to at least good physical health if not mental health, had their memories carefully modified by Freya. The Muggle man was transfigured into a bone and placed reverently in the Healer’s bag. 

“We keep them,” he said shortly. “When this is over, we want to go back and tell the families what really happened. They deserve that much.”

“What about the girl, the Muggleborn?”

“We don’t know what they do with them.” The Healer sighed. “It’s best just to focus on each task as it comes, Mr Malfoy. Now, I think we have done all we can here.”

Draco followed the Wizard back through the winding passages of Prewett Hall until they came to a large airy room with a clean whitewashed appearance and faintly antiseptic smell. 

“I’m sorry that was such a rushed beginning,” he said, sinking into a chair behind a battered old desk and gesturing for Draco to sit in the seat in front of it. “As I’m sure you know we’re under the pump here. There’s me and Culpepper and then a couple of others with some training but that’s it. I’m Octavius Turpin, by the way, used to be head of Urgent Care and Traumatic Injury at Mungo’s.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco muttered, wondering if he was ever going to stop feeling self-conscious saying his own name. “I’m not a healer, I just – I’ve been studying it.”

Turpin gave him a penetrating look. “You did good diagnostic work for a beginner. Did you have a teacher?”

“My Uncle.” Draco said quietly. “Ted Tonks.”

“Ah,” A shadow passed over Turpin’s face. “He was a good man, was Ted, and a gifted Healer. I was sorry to hear he’d been murdered.”

“So was I.” Draco stared at a spot somewhere over Turpin’s left shoulder. “I’d like to learn more. If I can be useful.”

“There’s plenty of use to be made of you,” Turpin said briskly. “Let’s get a cup of tea and introduce you to Culpepper. Then we can get started on the afternoon ward rounds.”

Draco had thought he knew quite a lot about Healing magic after spending most of the last year reading up whenever he could. The first day in the Infirmary roundly disabused him of this notion. He knew quite a bit of the basic theory but the charm work itself looked so complex he wondered if he would ever learn any of it.

When he finally made his way to the kitchen later that evening, he was famished and salivating at the smell of food. He found a smiling red-haired witch waiting for him who introduced herself as Molly Weasley.

“Here you are, dear.” A generous plate of stew and dumplings was placed in front of him. Draco barely managed a thank you before delving into the food with utter relish. “Well you’re certainly not what I expected.” She commented, taking his plate and hovering it over the tureen. “Seconds?”

“Yes please.”

Draco jumped at the sound of another voice from behind him, he turned to see Ron’s sister peering at him with an almost identical look of suspicion to that of her brother. “Mum, have you seen Luna?”

“Ginny, dear – could you go and tell Dean that Draco is back from the Infirmary. I’m sure he’ll be keen to catch up.”

Dean appeared with Luna in tow and they sat around the large kitchen table clutching mugs of cocoa. Draco didn’t know how to begin telling them about the dead Muggle or screaming mother but he did tell them about the missing Muggleborns. Dean looked grim.

“Yeah, they’ve got a whole lot of us here in hiding. You remember Justin? Well you probably don’t – Muggleborn Hufflepuff in our year. He’s…well he’s had a worse time of it than you and me.”

“You’re all much too young for this,” Mrs Weasley looked thin lipped. “And those three out all on their own.”

“We’ll be okay, Mrs Weasley.” Dean said with forced cheer. “And so will Harry, Ron and Hermione. They’ve defied Him so far.”

Justin Finch-Fletchley was not someone Draco had ever spoken to at School but he was sure that their former classmate had been much more gregarious and freer with his smiles than the boy that was waiting for them when he and Dean returned back to their shared dormitory later that night. There was another boy in their year there as well, Anthony Goldstein, who Draco vaguely remembered beating at Quidditch who greeted him cautiously and said something about history telling him he’d needed to hide sooner rather than later. Outside of those that Draco knew personally were probably another fifteen or twenty kids of Hogwarts age and some younger. Dean told him quietly that there was another room for the girls. 

“There’s a way out that they are using. America wasn’t taking anyone at the start but the International Wizengamot has been putting pressure on them and now – well we might be learning American Football in a couple of weeks.”

“Not me,” Draco murmured, looking past Dean to the huddled figure of Justin curled up on the bed two rows over. “I’m going to see this through.”


	20. Chapter 20

Over the next two weeks Draco felt he worked harder than he had ever worked in his life. Ever since he’d met Ted, he’d harboured a vague ambition to become a Healer if for no other reason than because his Uncle had said he’d make a good one. He’d had some half-formed idea about being able to do advanced spells and earn respect and praise for doing it. 

When it came down to it, actually doing the work with real people face to face was something else altogether. There was no space for revulsion over Muggles or Muggleborns or for children bitten by Fenrir and his kin, no space to be squeamish or shy away from a procedure or spell that might be unpleasant or difficult. But there were good things too. He wasn’t there as a Malfoy, or a Pureblood or a former Death Eater; he was there simply to help. It was exhausting, humbling and cleansing work.

Dean ended up being an impromptu babysitter for the kids whose families were either working for the Order or otherwise couldn’t care for them. There were more children every day. Minerva McGonagall had been able to smuggle a list of names out from the Book of Acceptance and slowly the Order had been managing to save as many eleven-year-old Muggleborns as it could. The family Draco had met on his first day at Prewett Hall had simply been one they couldn’t reach in time.

On Sundays, Turpin usually allowed him the luxury of sleeping until he felt like getting up. This meant that on one particular Sunday when he was suddenly shaken awake by Dean he felt instantly on alert. 

“What? What’s happened?”

“I dunno.” Draco could see his own worry echoed in Dean’s face. “Turpin sent me to get you. Said it was important.”

Draco swore under his breath and sat up with a groan. “I’ll be right there.”

When he arrived in the Infirmary less than five minutes later, he found Turpin and Culpepper in quick whispered conversation about the needs of the patients under their care that day. Turpin’s bag lay ready and beside it another smaller case.

“….it might be an absolutely normal delivery but then there’s no way to know. I’ll take Draco he will want to– ah Mr Malfoy.” Turpin turned to greet him and Draco was surprised and pleased to see no sign of strain or worry in his face today. “Prompt as always.”

They made their way to the Apparition point and as usual Turpin gave him the list of facts for the case they’d be going to see and what he was expected to do.

“The families usually handle this well enough on their own of course. Our role will be to assist and ensure that any unexpected complications are well managed. However, there is a – a possible irregularity as the Father is…well you will know Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks of course.”

“She’s my cousin.” Draco felt a sudden burst of nerves that had nothing to do with witnessing an impending childbirth. “Will my Aunt be there?”

“Yes,” Turpin looked cautiously pleased, “I thought you might like the chance to see them, especially for something a little happier than many events of late.”

“Yes!” Draco said firmly. “Yes, I want to see them but…but…won’t I have to see…”

Turpin raised an eyebrow. “Half the population has exactly the same anatomy Mr Malfoy and believe me when I say that no person in childbirth that I have ever attended too has cared all that much. They have far more pressing concerns. You are there to aid me, not to play the fool schoolboy. I trust I have not misplaced my confidence in you.”

“No,” Draco said quietly. “No, I can do it.”

“Good,” Turpin patted him on the shoulder, “so, our expectant Mother is a Prima Gravida carrying a baby of normal gestation, both patients are well and there are no early indications of distress in labour. What should you be looking out for?”

Change in vital signs, unexpected pain or bleeding, checking that the baby wasn’t coming out moon faced. Draco rattled that off easily enough and Turpin nodded satisfied. “Let’s go then.”

*

The Farm looked almost identical to when Draco had first set eyes on it a little over a year ago. It was hard to believe that so much could have changed in such a short period of time. He forced himself to look away from the sight of Ted’s shed at the bottom of the garden and followed after Turpin into the house.

Remus Lupin was pacing back and forth and the bottom of the stairs looking white-faced with worry.

“Octavius! They’re upstairs.” He barely even seemed to register Draco was there.

His cousin was in Ted and Andromeda’s old bedroom, laid out on top of what Draco knew to be Aunt Andromeda’s worst towels. She looked red faced and sweaty and was obviously in labour but otherwise the room’s atmosphere seemed calm. His Aunt was by her daughter’s bedside and gave him a quick, tired smile. The time for reunions would come later.

“Andromeda,” Turpin greeted his Aunt and then moved immediately to examine Tonks. “Hello Nymphadora, I’m Octavius I’m a Healer and I’m here to make sure we get your young man safely out into the world.”

“Tonks!” She panted, giving him a glare that suggested were she not in labour right now she would hex him if he used her given name again. 

“Tonks it is.” Turpin agreed with a smile. “Draco is here to act as my assistant. Draco please monitor the vital signs for me. Now, let’s see how much longer young sir intends to take.”

Draco set up the charms that pulsed and hummed in faint lines above Tonks, telling them all that they needed to know. Draco sat quietly trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything important and listening to Tonk’s steady panting breath and his Aunt’s whispered encouragement. After another long few minutes Turpin glanced up and seemed to find nothing to concern him. “You could have called us earlier,” he said cheerfully, “much longer and we’d have missed the birth.”

“Re-really….” Tonks gasped and Draco watched her body arch and push, she reached for his hand and her grip was strong enough to make him wonder if she’d break bones. “Go and get him. Stupid man. Don’t want him to miss it.”

“I’ll go.” Draco said immediately. “If you don’t need me to do anything else at the moment.” At Turpin’s nod of assent, he got up and quickly hurried downstairs. Lupin was still pacing, looking like a man awaiting execution rather than the birth of his first child.

“Professor Lupin – Remus.” Draco said, trying to keep his tone gentle, “she wants you up there. It won’t be long.”

“Is he well, is he…” Draco didn’t know what happened if a Werewolf had a child but he was fairly sure that this was why Lupin looked so absolutely beside himself.

“He’s fine.” Draco reached out hesitantly to squeeze Lupin’s shoulder. “Healer Turpin says everything looks fine.”

Lupin hurried up the stairs ahead of Draco and took Andromeda’s place beside his wife. 

“I can see the head,” Turpin said steadily. “One more good push, Tonks and…”

Draco was suddenly aware of holding his breath and he could sense the anticipation from everyone else gathered around. Then the silence of the room was suddenly punctuated by a thin wailing cry. Turpin lifted his hands up and in them lay the wrinkled squalling form of Tonk’s new-born baby boy. 

“Draco,” Turpin said softly, “come here now and pass me the blanket. We’ll check him over and then let the new parents meet their son.”

Turpin handed him the baby almost reverently, it was warm and solid, struggling against the blanket as Draco wrapped it carefully. Draco was absolutely lost for words. He had always thought of babies as noisy, dirty, squalling things but there was something strange and sacred about this life so newly brought into the world.

Turpin ran his wand over the tiny form, his smile growing wider and wider and then finally proclaimed. “A healthy baby boy. Remus, come and cut the cord. Introduce your son to your wife.”

There was still work to be done even after a baby had been born. Turpin showed him the charms he’d used and how to check that the birth had not damaged anything inside the mother. Draco focused on that and tried to make himself inconspicuous. He didn’t want to intrude on the bubble of happiness that had seemed to swell and grow around Tonks, Remus and Aunt Andromeda. He didn’t feel quite like he belonged. 

“Go and meet your cousin, Draco.” Turpin said eventually. “We can run over the theory later. This is more important than all that.”

Draco glanced up towards the top of the bed. Remus caught his eye and smiled broadly, gesturing him to come closer. Aunt Andromeda was sobbing quietly even through her smiles as she gently stroked her finger over the baby’s forehead.

“Draco Malfoy,” Remus intoned formally, “may I present your cousin, Edward Remus Lupin.”

“After Dad,” Tonks smiled faintly. “Seemed the only proper name for him.”

The new Teddy Lupin was fast asleep against his Mother’s chest. Draco offered his hand to Lupin. “Many congratulations, you should be very proud.”

Lupin took the offered hand and shook it warmly. “He’s hope. I really feel like things can get better now.”

Turpin had packed up the case and caught Draco’s eyes with the faintest of nods towards the door. Draco could have stayed here all day in this safe and happy sanctuary but there wasn’t time for that yet. If Harry succeeded maybe but not yet and there were more people who needed Turpin’s help back at Prewett Hall.

“I have to go.” He said apologetically. “He really is wonderful. Looks just like his Granddad.”

“Draco,” his Aunt Andromeda had followed him downstairs and wrapped him in a tight embrace before he made it to the front door and the waiting Turpin. “I was so worried for you. When I heard about Ted, I thought…and now you’re here and doing this. I wish he could have seen it. He’d have been so proud of you.”

“I missed you.” Draco hugged her back just as tightly. “I miss him. I want to honour what he did for me. What both of you did.”

“You are always welcome here, Draco.” She caught sight of Turpin and let him go. “Always, remember that.”

Back at the Hall Draco helped Turpin to unpack, sanitise and replace all the gear in their bag, naming and explaining the function of each instrument as he came across it. Samuel Culpepper sat quietly at the neighbouring desk, watching Draco with an impressed expression.

“You learn quickly.” He looked over at his fellow Healer. “Octavius, we can spare him for the afternoon. Let him be spend time with the others.”

He found Dean surrounded by a swarm of children who all had a restless, fidgety air that Draco was pleased to see could still exist amidst all the stress and fear that surrounded them. They were in groups of five and sharing a wand between them. Justin and Anthony looked to be trying to help Dean. Anthony looked just as overwhelmed as Dean. Justin wore his usual blank expression. 

“So, it’s a swish and flick.” Dean was saying, getting one of the balls he had piled by his feet to float and bounce in the air in front of him. 

“Can’t we just play?” One eleven-year-old whined, waving his wand like it was a sword and frowning when nothing happened to the ball he was trying to levitate. “I don’t want to be a Wizard. I just want to go home.”

Dean caught Draco’s eye looking a little desperate. “Help,” he whispered as Draco came to stand next to him. “Teaching is a lot harder than the Professors made it look.”

“We could try teaching them Quidditch.” Draco suggested. “Though without brooms it’d be pretty hard.”

“Just get a couple of the kids to play bludgers.” Justin suggested, the sound of his voice making Draco start a little, so rarely had he heard it. “Like tag.”

“Who gets to play the Snitch then?”

“Me.” Draco grinned. “But none of you three are allowed to tackle me.”

The game turned into the absolute chaos that Draco expected it to. The Muggles – Muggleborns – he corrected himself, might not be able to fly yet but they at least seemed to understand the rules. Anthony and Justin found themselves roped in as goalkeepers and the two kids who got picked as bludgers ran screaming and laughing amidst their friends tagging and grabbing onto anyone they could. 

Draco was ‘caught’ after about five minutes of sprinting madly around the pitch pursued by two giggling kids. After that they took a break, swapped some of the kids into different roles and to Draco’s surprise and relief Justin volunteered to play Snitch. 

Draco stood back guarding his team’s goal, watching as the Hufflepuff boy tore around the field with a tail of giggling children in pursuit and saw Justin laugh for the first time since Draco had arrived. The kids seemed to have far more energy than Draco, Anthony, Dean and Justin put together and soon the four older boys found themselves sat on the side-lines supervising.

Dean leaned back, letting Justin settle more comfortably against his shoulder. “What was the emergency you had to go to, Draco?”

“Professor Lupin’s wife was giving birth. I got to help out.”

Dean and Justin shared identical looks of distaste. “All that goop.” Dean said, wrinkling his nose. “Still, was it cool?”

“Yeah,” Draco smiled at the memory of the small warm body in his hands. “Yeah it was pretty awesome. And you guys are teaching now, does that mean I have to call you Professors?”

“Funny.” Anthony’s lips twitched. “Has Mr Weasley talked to any of you yet about America?”

Draco shook his head. “No but I’ve said I want to stay here and help. I think after everything I really shouldn’t run away.”

“I’d rather stay here.” Justin said quietly. “At least as long as Dean and the rest of you are here. If we get the chance to fight, I want to take some of those bastards down.”

“You need to help Harry Potter.” Draco said softly. “If he can kill the Dark Lord then we’ve got a chance. Until then, he’ll just keep coming back and gaining followers. The things he does…he needs to be stopped.”


	21. Chapter 21

Remus Lupin visited the Hall a week later full of stories and joy as a new Father. Draco had taken the early shift that day in the Infirmary with Healer Culpepper and sat alongside Dean and Justin listening to Lupin recount in detail every detail of Teddy. It was a wonderful interruption to weeks that were otherwise filled with a sense that their security and routine was forever in jeopardy. 

Draco couldn’t escape the knowledge that the war was continuing, Order Members slipped past him in the halls giving him dark suspicious looks. He saw curse injuries and spell damage that turned his stomach. Still, of Harry, Ron and Hermione there was no news and Draco began to expect than any day now would come the announcement that their bodies had been found. 

Ginny Weasley and Luna joined the other boys in caring for the Muggleborn refugees. Dean and Justin started up casual football games as the evenings grew longer and lighter. On the days where he could spare the time Draco often sat on the side-lines watching until he was dragged into the game and roundly mocked by kids half his height whenever he tripped over his own feet.

Anthony left on the last day of April with another six Muggleborn children all of whom had been offered sanctuary in various parts of America. Ilvermorny could take some of them, others were going to Castelbruxo in Brazil. Draco hoped that the Dark Lord never got enough power to target them there. Quietly, Draco resolved to himself that if there was no word from Harry by his birthday in June then he would ask to formally join the Order.

*

The first news came less than an hour after the three of them escaped. Draco was in the middle of crushing batches of Murtlap berries to release the juice before boiling it down when a Wizard Draco recognised as being an Order Member hurried through the door at the far end of the room. Turpin stood to greet him. Draco strained to overhear fragments of what their visitor was saying.

“Potter…on the back of a Dragon, clean out of the building…absolutely destroyed.”

Draco carefully finished the batch he was working on and made his way towards the front of the Infirmary. Turpin gave him an infectious grin. “Heard, did you? Harry Potter just broke out of Gringotts.”

“On a Dragon?” Draco couldn’t keep the scepticism out of his tone. “Really?”

“So says Mundungus Fletcher and he was in Diagon Alley at the time it flew off.”

Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Isn’t he that dirty little sneak thief?”

Turpin laughed at the expression on Draco’s face and shook his head. “Don’t discount the tidings of dirty little sneak thieves, Mr Malfoy, they are very good at being in the right place and the right time.”

It seemed about right that the Wireless remained absolutely silent about any untoward events at Gringotts but Draco knew for a fact, from both what he himself had overheard and what Justin had heard whilst helping Mrs Weasley with lunches for the children, that Harry Potter’s crazy plan had somehow succeeded. That just left Hogwarts then. Draco sat on that knowledge silently for a few hours while he finished preparing the Murtlap, debating whether he should tell someone or if he would endanger Harry’s mission by doing so.

Turpin let him go when he said he wanted to take a break for afternoon tea before starting on the next batch and that was when he finally took his opportunity. He breathed a sigh of relief when he pushed open the door and she was there in the Kitchen.

“Mrs Weasley,” he said nervously, “I’ve got some information the Order might want to know.”

*

“So, you can’t tell us WHY Harry might be going to Hogwarts or when he will do so, only that he might?” Mr Weasley sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Mr Malfoy, I appreciate your efforts to be useful however this really doesn’t give us much to go on.”

“I know,” Draco breathed out a soft sound of frustration. “But it’s something, right?”

The assembled Order of the Phoenix, gathered around the large kitchen table, all peered at him as if daring him to admit that he knew nothing and was wasting their time.

“Hogwarts is under Ministry control.” Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke now, slow and measured. “Why would Harry go there?”

“He went to Gringotts and there’s hardly anywhere more secure than that.” Remus put in. “What if Draco really does know something. He travelled with Potter for a time. That has to count for something.”

Kingsley nodded along, closing his eyes as if deep in thought. “We will discuss your suggestion, Mr Malfoy. We will call you back if we need further input.”

Draco felt his face burning at being so easily dismissed but left without another word. He made his way back to the dormitory where Dean and Justin lay curled up reading some Muggle magazine. They jumped up quickly as he came barrelling in. 

“We need to get ready.” He said tightly. “Something is going to happen very soon.”

*

Less than an hour later Turpin appeared in the doorway of the dormitory looking tired but determined.

“It’s happening. The Order are making a stand at Hogwarts. I’ve packed you a bag of supplies.”

Draco nodded and got up immediately to accompany Turpin. Dean and Justin followed closely behind him and turned left towards the Entrance Hall. Dean paused as Draco went to follow the right-hand path to the Infirmary.

“See you on the other side?”

Draco smiled back grimly. “Wherever that may be.” On impulse he gave Dean a tight hug. “Good luck, don’t find yourself needing my help.”

*

In the Infirmary Culpepper was already dressed in his St Mungo’s robes. Turpin quickly shrugged off his old patched work robes and into his own set of faded green robes. 

“Here,” he tossed a set at Draco. “Wear these. We’re not going in as combatants and anything we can do to keep ourselves alive will help everyone else.”

Draco pulled on the robes feeling sick with nerves and anticipation. “What’s the plan?”

“We try to help anyone who is hurt. If you find a Death Eater then take their wand and try to incapacitate them safely but we don’t take sides beyond that. Who knows which of You-Know-Who’s side are actually under the Imperius Curse?”

“Or being coerced.” Draco said quietly, catching the brief look of sympathy in his Mentor’s expression. 

“Exactly.” Turpin nodded. “Ready? Good, let’s go then.”

*

They apparated right into the bar of the Hogshead. Draco barely had time for a glance around the place though as he hurried forward into the newly opened tunnel yawning before them.

“Quickly now,” the barman urged. “I don’t know why the Death Eaters aren’t here already.”

He, Turpin and Culpepper joined Remus, Shacklebolt and several of the older Weasley brothers in hurrying through a passageway which opened up into a large homely looking common room decked out in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor banners.

Neville Longbottom greeted the three order members and barely spared a glance for Draco. “Harry’s here, they’re meeting in the Great Hall.”

“Draco!” At the sound of his name Draco turned and saw Harry hurrying towards him. “Nice robes, qualified already?”

“Not quite,” Draco looked down at his robes with a self-conscious smile. “I can’t believe you rode a fucking dragon. You’re an idiot.”

“Hope I get the chance to tell you the full story. But anyway, you’d better get going. Oh and…” he held up his wand and Draco’s heart skipped a beat when he recognised his own Hawthorn wand in Harry’s hand. 

“Thanks. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d never even have known what we’d got.”

“Where’s Weasley and Hermione?” Draco asked, glancing around the room for them. 

“Gone ahead.” Harry’s eyes were already searching out another vaguely familiar ginger-haired figure who had just appeared through the tunnel from Hogsmeade. “Anyway, you’d better get to the Great Hall.”

“Lead the way, Mr Malfoy.” Turpin said quietly as they emerged into the corridor on the 7th floor. “I am sure you are familiar with the route.”

It felt like a fitting end to the journey he had taken which had began eleven months ago with him leading a group of Death Eaters into the Castle to murder Albus Dumbledore. He wondered what he would say to his old self if he could talk to him now. Would that Draco even listen to him?

*  
He passed through hordes of students in Gryffindor scarlet and Ravenclaw blue as he led the others down and into the Great Hall, finally they made it and he caught sight of his own House table on the far side of the room. He couldn’t help it; his eyes went right to them.

“It’s Draco!” Pansy all but launched herself across the space between them, staring up at him in righteous indignation. “What are you doing here? What are you wearing?”

“We’re taking a stand, Pans.” He said quietly. “He’s coming. We’re going to fight.”

“They said you were dead.” She choked out. “Then Theo said you’d stunned your own Mother and helped Potter escape, that you’d betrayed your own family for filth and blood traitors. I didn’t want to believe it.”

Draco looked over her shoulder and saw Theo staring back at him, his face hard and impassive. He turned his attention back to Pansy. “The Dark Lord murdered my Dad. What he says, what he does – it isn’t right. You know it doesn’t make any sense. Think about it.”

For a fraction of a second, he was sure he could see doubt in her dark eyes. Then it was gone. “If your Dad had obeyed the Dark Lord then he wouldn’t have needed to die.” She said coldly. “And it doesn’t matter who is right. It matters who has the power. The Dark Lord has won, Draco. Look around. Do you really think that a couple of stupid kids can defeat him now, with the whole might of the Ministry behind him?”

“Take your seat, Miss Parkinson.” Horace Slughorn eased his way past Draco to stand at the head of the Slytherin Table. “Welcome back, Mr Malfoy.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Draco muttered, quickly falling silent as Minerva McGonagall rose to address the assembled students. The rumbling mutter that followed her announcement to the school of the evacuation and coming fight was abruptly cut off by an eerie echoing voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Draco recognised that voice and felt goose-bumps erupt over his skin.

_Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded._

Draco knew to put no stock in words like that; he had heard their like before and knew there was no truth to them. Words like that had got his Father murdered for believing in them. The echo of the Dark Lord’s words reverberated off the walls for another few seconds and then there was absolute silence.

“But Potter’s there…” Pansy again, pointing at the space by the Gryffindor table where Harry stood, flanked by Lupin and Shacklebolt. “Someone grab him!”

Clearly, nothing Draco had said had made any impact on her. He watched as the several hundred students at the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables stood, wands drawn between his own former House and Harry. None of the Slytherins had moved to follow Pansy’s suggestion though and when they were dismissed by Professor McGonagall they left without any further opposition.

After that everything seemed to move very fast. 

Madame Pomfrey appeared with three other people in tow, all Healers and friends of hers from St Mungo’s, who had responded to her urgent call for help. It was quickly decided that they would split into teams and each take an area of the school to try and ensure they could respond as quickly as possible to where they were needed. Draco stood feeling out of place amongst these seasoned and practiced Healers wondering if, when it came down to it, he would make any real difference at all.

*

When it actually began in earnest Draco didn’t have any more time to worry.

On the stroke of midnight there were a series of earth-shaking explosions around the walls of the castle. He and Turpin exchanged glances and then took off running in the direction of the one that seemed closest.

When they arrived, Alicia Spinnett was battling hard against a masked Death Eater and trying to shield the still forms of two Wizards Draco had never met. Draco cast a shield charm over the nearest one who was stirring and groaning. Sealing off all other distractions he cast the charms and saw the bones glow for him, showing where the damage was.

“Broken shoulder and three cracked ribs.” He muttered. “Just masonry damage.” That was easy. He felt the bones snap back into place at his charm and rummaged in his bag for the essence of Poppy. 

The man was blinking awake and moved to sit up. Draco felt a rush of elation. He had done it.

Alicia had managed to stun the Death Eater. Turpin went to check him over, take the man’s wand and move him out of the way of anymore masonry from the damaged wall.

*

The next person he came to was dead. There was no mark on the body and it bore all the signs of the Killing Curse. He shook his head at Turpin and they moved on.

They found a girl in Hufflepuff colours with a terrible wound across her chest. Draco’s hand went automatically to the place on his shoulder where the Sectumsempra scars were still faintly visible. This looked worse though.

“Werewolf.” Turpin muttered. “If we hurry, we might be able to save her.”

“She’ll be cursed.” Draco whispered, already passing Turpin bandages. “What if she doesn’t want us to…”

“That’s not our call to make.” Turpin said, his tone clipped as he focused. “Keep a watch while I do this. I don’t want to be stunned or crushed for my trouble.”

*

On and on it went; terrible injury after terrible injury. Draco’s robes became caked in dust and blood. There were dead on both sides of the battle. Draco found Theo Nott’s Father, the one who had attacked Uncle Ted and Aunt Andromeda, dying slowly at the foot of the Astronomy Tower.

“Draco…” Nott wheezed, the blood bubbling up at the corners of his lips. “Where is Theodore?”

“Isn’t he in Hogsmeade? They evacuated the school.” Draco reached for his wand.

Nott’s hands gripped at his, holding him there. “Don’t think…” Nott gasped, “that helping me will save you from the Dark Lord.”

“I don’t care about that now.” Draco retorted. “I just don’t want anyone else to lose their Dad.”

“Too late.” Nott’s face twisted into a rictus of a smile. “Theo. Don’t let him die. He must…we need to carry on the line. My son…”

Then he was gone.

*

Turpin called him over to lift rubble off a still form on the second-floor corridor beneath Ravenclaw Tower. Draco started at the sight of him, the first person he’d actually known so far, one of Anthony’s housemates in Ravenclaw. A little way up the corridor, looking as if he’d just sat down for a rest, was the body of Professor Lupin.

Draco forced himself away from thinking about Lupin and turned his attention to the still breathing body under the rubble. “I know him, that’s Terry Boot.”

Turpin was running his wand over Terry’s body. “He’s alive. Lift the stone slowly or the injury might kill him.”

The crush injury looked horrific and Draco had to swallow the bile rising in his throat but after five tense minutes Turpin had Terry conscious and comfortable. 

“Professor Lupin…” Terry gasped. “He was…he stopped the wall landing on my head. I think he’s dead.”

Draco was spared having to tell Terry that he was right by the return of that cold, echoing voice from out of the air. 

_“…I shall find you and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One Hour.”_

“We should head back to the Hall.” Turpin said quietly, once the Dark Lord had finished speaking. “Draco, help Terry. I – I’ll carry Remus.”

*

Back in the Hall Draco helped Terry to the make-shift hospital wing by what used to be the Slytherin table and looked around to see who else had returned. Over the far side of the hall Turpin was laying down the body of Professor Lupin by the Gryffindor table. Had anyone thought to get Theo’s Dad down from the Astronomy Tower or was he still there?

Neville Longbottom was having a gash to his shoulder attended to by Madame Pomfrey. For a minute Draco glanced around the Hall for any sign of Harry and found none. There were a group of red-headed figures clustered by the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione among them but no sign of Harry. Where could he have gone? 

“Draco,” Culpepper beckoned him over. “I need someone to help me hold this wound open while I clean it.”

After that the hour passed by faster than Draco could have imagined. He didn’t stop to let himself contemplate anything beyond the next procedure, the next problem. Then, for the third time that night, the Dark Lord’s voice boomed through the castle and announced that Harry had died. 

The Great Hall had gone strangely silent. Draco felt a momentary punch of hopeless grief knowing that if Harry truly was dead then it would be over soon for him as well. The low groan of the girl he was working on brought him back to the present moment. If he had to die at the Dark Lord’s hand that was no excuse to leave others to their fate while he could still help them.

He made her as comfortable as he could and then stood, making his way to stand behind Weasley and Hermione watching the dark mass of people coming up the drive to the main entrance.

“But the Elder Wand…” Weasley was saying. “It shouldn’t have been able to happen. It’s got to be a trick.”

“Draco,” Hermione turned to face him, looking stricken. “What are we going to do?”

Draco reached for her, wanting some human connection at this moment, and hugged her briefly.

Even now at the end of the world Weasley still had time to throw him a filthy look. Draco ignored him, for all his many faults Weasley did love Hermione, maybe they’d somehow survive and he could make her happy after Draco was murdered for his treachery. The Death Eaters had reached the castle now and lined up facing the main doors. Hagrid was with them and in his arms was…

“NO!” Minerva McGonagall staggered and had to be supported by Professor Sinistra. 

Draco watched in numb horror as Harry’s lifeless body was thrown unceremoniously at the feet of the Dark Lord. He scanned the faces in the crowd of Death Eaters, looking for his Mum. 

Hermione’s hand was suddenly gripping his own tight enough for it to hurt, he turned and saw tears streaming down her face. She and Weasley were screaming Harry’s name as if somehow that would undo the evidence of their own eyes.

Everything they had done, every sacrifice they had made, all that pain had been for nothing. 

“He beat you!” Weasley shouted loud enough for the Dark Lord to turn and smile in a horrible mockery of sympathy. The crowd seemed brought to life by the sign of still defiant resistance. Draco watched with a sense of disbelieving admiration which swiftly turned to horror as Neville Longbottom stood in open defiance of the Dark Lord and was set alight.

And then he wasn’t.

Neville Longbottom, the butt of Draco’s jokes, the stuttering kitten of a Gryffindor, pulled the sword from the heart of the sorting hat and hacked off the head of the Dark Lord’s last Horcrux. Chaos broke out in the hall as the battle seemed ready to start again.

“Harry,” Ginny Weasley was shouting desperately, “I can’t see his body.”

Draco saw the Werewolf, Greyback, launch himself at a group of Hufflepuffs and bring one boy down. The students scattered and Greyback lifted his head, mouth dripping red. 

“I’ve got to go,” he yelled to Hermione and Ron over the noise. “If – if we survive this then come back to the Hall.”

Chaos was reigning around him as he ran for the downed student, pulling out Harry’s wand and casting the first enchantments to try and save them. There was a terrifying growl that send a shiver of primal terror right through him. He turned to see a hulking figure descending on him.

“Draco Malfoy,” it was Greyback, who smiled revealing bloody yellowed teeth. “The Dark Lord has marked you for himself but I’m sure he won’t mind if I take a bite out of you first.”

Draco stood, setting his shoulders and drawing his wand. “Do your worst, Greyback.”

The Werewolf pounced with a barking laugh. Draco barely got the stunner off in time but it didn’t even check Greyback’s motion. Draco landed heavily, pinned and winded. 

“Still tender,” Greyback muttered in his ear, grazing his teeth over Draco’s jaw. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

And then the weight was gone. Draco forced breath back into his lungs and looked up to Longbottom reaching down to help him up. “Thank you,” he gasped, hauling himself upright. 

“Don’t mention it,” Longbottom said shortly, spinning on the spot and firing off another jinx at Greyback. The Werewolf charged him, teeth and claws lengthening. 

“Neville! No!” For the second time in as many minutes Draco was flung sideways and to the floor as Weasley charged in and pushed them both out of the way. Longbottom was up again quicker than Draco and both of them fired stunners. The Werewolf went down under the combined spells leaving Weasley trapped beneath him.

“Petrificus Totalis, Mobilicorpus” Longbottom cast the spells with speed and efficiency and Draco made it to Weasley’s side in moments but even a quick glance at the deep wounds told him it was probably already too late.

“Ron,” he said firmly, “look at me. It’s going to be okay.”

“Fuck,” Weasley groaned and coughed, blood already showing in the spittle at the edge of his mouth. “You used my name. Now I know I really am a goner.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Weasley,” Draco said briskly, casting a charm to try and stem the blood seeping from the several inch-deep lacerations in Weasley’s chest. Longbottom, so decisive in the duel now stood frozen in place. “Neville, go and see if you can find a trained Healer, tell them there are deep lacerations to the abdomen and it’s a cursed wound.” He dropped his voice a little lower and added “and any of the family. Quickly.”

The Hall was emptying out. From the courtyard outside Draco thought he could hear Potter’s voice. Now wasn’t the time to go mad. He had to focus. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. He tried every healing spell he knew but it wouldn’t stop. Maybe pressure. Weasley groaned in agony, his face now chalk white. 

Draco swore under his breath. Where were the family. “Stay with me, Ron.”

There were footsteps hurrying towards them. Ron Weasley looked at him and for once there was no anger or fear there, if anything he looked peaceful. “Told you I was a goner.” He shivered and reached for Draco’s hand. “Hermione – you look after her for me. Harry too. Don’t you fucking dare hurt them or I’m going to haunt you until your dying day.”

“You’re far too brave to make a ghost, Weasley.” Draco said softly, feeling Ron’s grip on his hand lessening.

“I love her,” Weasley murmured. Longbottom came back with Bill Weasley and a Wizard Draco didn’t recognise; he supposed more Healers must have arrived from St Mungo’s. Draco shuffled to one side helping where he could and then at a grim look from the Healer finally got to his feet, the adrenaline still rattling through him.

Longbottom looked at him with a strangely blank expression. “Harry killed Voldemort. It’s over.” For a few moments Draco wondered if Longbottom had finally gone utterly mad when he heard the cheers beginning to erupt around the castle. Watching Ron on the floor, dying right at the end, made the whole thing seem like some cruel joke.

“Bill,” it was Molly Weasley, “Bill, someone told me that…” and then she looked down and saw Ron. Draco hoped that, as long as he lived, he never had to hear a sound like the one Molly made then as she saw Ron lying there. 

“He needs to go to St Mungo’s at once.” The older Healer said, his words filled with unnatural calm that told Draco all he needed to know about how close Ron Weasley was to death. If the battle had gone on for mere minutes longer then it would have been too late. “Go Draco and find one of the others. Now.”

Draco couldn’t help with moving Weasley, that was beyond his skill, so he could only watch as the little group hurried out of the hall and headed for the Apparition point. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, the good guys were supposed to live.

“Draco, oh thank Merlin,” he turned to see Hermione hurrying across the Hall towards him. Her hair was in disarray and there was a nasty gash along one collarbone but she was alive. “They told me that Ron...”

“He’s still alive.” Draco said, still feeling like he was seeing the whole scene from underwater. “We did everything we could.”

Abruptly she buried her face against Draco’s chest, clinging to him. He was completely unprepared for this and stood motionless for a long few seconds before he unfroze himself enough to hug her back.

“We beat him.” She whispered as they clung to one another. “Ron - oh Ron – I should have been there…”

“He saved my life.” Draco said quietly. “He saved Neville’s life. If he lives then I’m going to buy him more than just some lousy Butterbeer.”

She gave him one more squeezing hug and pulled back to look up into his face. “What are we going to do now? I feel like we’ve been running for so long I can’t imagine going back to my old life.”

“I don’t want my old life back.” He murmured. “I want to make a better one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. Thanks Sp8cefluff. I have really appreciated your comments. I hope I don't break your heart too much with this ending.
> 
> Yes there is Draco/Hermione if you squint. It's not in the tags because you have to squint pretty hard. I have seriously enjoyed writing this. Now I am going to sit and work out what happens next and then write that. Got a couple of one-shots that might appear before then based in the same universe.


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